Dishonored Effect
by Darridus
Summary: Corvo Attano, the Lord Protector of the new Empress Emily Kaldwin finds himself in an unfamiliar world after being sent by the Outsider to fight a mysterious threat that even the Leviathans cannot protect the Empire from. Rated M for Corvo's capacity for violence, and profanity.
1. Chapter 1 : The Outsider's Gambit

The world was tinted blue. Everything around was shown in soft, blue, tones. Like the sky descended to the earth, or just beneath the sea. It seemed like a cloud of mist, with little islands of clear air floating in the abyss. Street lamps, city boulevards, luxurious manse's and parlors all drifted about like flotsam in a sea of nothingness. Time does not exist here, and science holds no power. This was the land of dreams and midnight, with neither dusk nor dawn. This was the Void.

There was but a single soul that called this place home, at present. A man with no face, who wore cold steel in the shape of a skull. His clothes were once finery, but the mud and tear had left their mark upon this man. Most prominently, he had an eldritch symbol branded upon the back of his hand, It resembled a cutlass, with wing-markings radiating from it's sides. The mark seemed to glow black with power, such that a viewer would quickly avert their eyes.

He wore a hood and a mask. His face of metal, with eyes that resembled a spyglass lens and stitches holding his visage together to the veil beneath. He looked like a devil, come to pillage the mortal world. But this was not the realm of men, but rather, the home of the Outsider.

"My dear Corvo, it seems fate is not finished with you yet."

A young man seemed to...float just above the ground. The masked man named Corvo noticed that this forced any conversation with him to involve looking up. The Outsider wore clean clothing, of obscure design and make. He spoke with a disinterested inflection, as if he were making a droll observation of the world around him. His eyes were pools of black, like oil refusing to mix with water. Corvo said nothing, as he often did. He was never really talkative, and recent times merely worsened the habit.

"The rat plague is cured, and little Empress Emily sits on her throne. Piero and Sokolov toil endlessly to make new creations for your Empire, and peace is restored to a new era. I should congratulate you, Corvo." The Outsider's smirk was barely discernible, "You have proven to be, by far, the most interesting man I've ever given my mark."

The Outsider floated closer still, and looked Corvo in the spyglass lenses " It's remarkable, what a mere man can do. How something so insignificant can accomplish what you have. A city in ruins. Death around every corner, and now...peace. In a few short weeks, you did what no other force could have."

The Outsider looked at Corvo, and crossed his arms with finality.

"You. fascinate me."

Corvo raised an eyebrow invisibly, but he was sure the Outsider was aware of the gesture as he cocked his head to the side.

"What will you do now, Corvo? No more enemies left to fight, and little Emily is secure on her throne. With the way things have gone, there are no more threats to her rule. It's strange, what you've done. In a short while, you... changed the nature of the city. To rebuild, the people work side by side with their former tormentors. Emily Kaldwin, despite her shortcomings, is the most beloved Empress to ever grace the throne. In the eyes of the common people, she brought the cure for the rat plague and restored the peace and stability they didn't value until it was taken from them. They would have no one else"

The Outsider floated around, forcing Corvo to turn and face him _Strange_, thought Corvo, I've _never seen him actually move before_.

"Corvo, your story does not end here. Though you have earned your rest, you have yet another role to play"

Corvo didn't like the sound of that at all, he had just been reunited with Emily. She was...his little girl. She meant everything to Corvo. Jessamine died in his arms, begging him to find her. He tore apart the city to do so, and those who stood in his way were struck down without quarter or mercy. This...being...had helped him, to be sure, but Corvo didn't want to leave Emily alone anytime soon.

"What do you mean, another role to play?" Corvo spoke for the first time. He was a man of few words, and avoided conversation at length with anyone besides Emily.

"You have skills and abilities beyond other men. You have unlocked every crevice of the potential power my mark could give you. Over the course of the entire history of your kind, I could name the others who commanded all of my gifts on a single hand. None of them hold a candle to you Corvo, which is why I have chosen you for this"

"I don't want to leave Emily. She's my little girl...And she's all I have left of..." Of Jessamine. His Empress, Jessamine. She had been taken from him a year ago, soon. It still hurt him inside, in a way that no amount of vengeance or retribution could heal, wounding him in a way that time could never repair.

The Outsider cocks his head to the other side, but otherwise remains unreadable.

"It serves you to search for Emily, of course, and protect her once more. In the coming days you will face a threat that even the Leviathan's cannot shield you from. They come from the stars..."

The Outsider leans back slightly, and looks up at where the sky should have been in the material world, then back at Corvo.

"And feel no remorse. No pity or guilt. They are...mockeries of your protectors. They fashion themselves Leviathans, mechanical abominations that insult the namesake they have chosen. They do not serve to protect any but their ancient masters, at great cost to the infants they hunt. Even your world is not safe, and the wolfhound of destruction will find them just as assuredly.:

Corvo didn't know what to say to that. Leviathans? Abominations? From the stars? He couldn't fathom what sort of threat could barrel down from the sky and bring Dunwall to ruin again. Everything he had worked for. Suffered for. Everything that Jessamine had died for, gone in an instant because of some devil come to destroy everything he held dear.

"...What must I do?"

Corvo could swear that he saw the Outside almost grin for a moment, but decided it must have been a trick of the light.

"All you have to do is Wake Up, Corvo."

* * *

"Wake up!"

"Wake up, you bastard!"

Corvo felt an impact kick him in the ribs, and the pain surged up his torso. But he remained silent. Long hours of training and experience taught him that in an unknown situation, silence was often best. He rolled over a few times, to put distance between himself and his assailant, and got up as quickly as he could. Whoever had attacked him was just standing there now. He brought his arm up, and held what looked like some kind of boxy device. It looked odd to Corvo, but he soon divined it's purpose. With a loud crack, a gunshot flew from the pistol's barrel a few inches from Corvo's head. With what could only be profanity, the assailant let out a guttural growl.

"Damn human, stay still. I don't want to waste a thermal clip on you. Those fancy clothes of yours'll be worth a good price, and I don't want get any blood on 'em.

Before the gunman could do anything, the world turned grey around Corvo. He felt his left hand, and the mark glowed Black in a grey world, and the air seemed permeated and thick.

For the first time, he got a good look at his attacked, and was taken aback. Corvo had seen many things in his life, but few were as grotesque as this creature. It wore what must have been finely crafted, custom made steel armor. It was blue with a white circle symbol on the breastplate. But the creatures face was hideous to Corvo's eyes. It had 2 rows of eyes, totaling four. They were all black, like the Outsider's, but lacked the intelligence and soul that the Outsider's had. They looked like the black eyes of an animal, like a rat.

It's face was yellowish and leathery, and had a row of stubby nostrils where it's nose should be. Corvo found himself disgusted. However, Corvo had other problems. He found himself lost. He had no idea where he was, but he knew it was far from Dunwall. He was stunned by the towering skyscrapers that seemed to reach the heavens themselves, with flying tram cars that vaguely resembled the one's designed by Sokolov. He shook his head. He needed information about this strange place, and the creature blocked his path. Corvo also knew that he could use the monster's pistol. It was boxy and looked heavy, and made loud noises, but he was impressed with it's accuracy. It had almost hit him from a few yards away! He only had ten more explosive bullets, and decided it would be best to conserve them along with his bolts. Everything here looked like one of Sokolov or Piero's machines. He doubted he would find any replacements for his weapons, assuming the people here even accepted Gristolean coin. With a casual spin of his hands he drew his blade from it's collapsed state, and time moved forward again. The creature looked confused at Corvo's seemingly instantaneous movement, but quickly shot his pistol a few times. _Amazing_, thought Corvo, _He doesn't even have to reload the thing!_ Corvo decided that he must possess one. with a quick Blink forward he teleported directly behind the deformed monster. He felt slightly drained of mental capacity, as if he were drunk or depressed, but quickly recovered himself. He would just have to wait awhile before using so much magic again. After all, none of Piero's remedy was likely to be at hand for quite some time.

With this in mind, he brought his blade to bear against the no doubt surprised creature's neck, one of the few unarmored parts of the thing. With a violent slash of his arm, he had sliced open what he assumed was the beast's jugular. It took a few moments for the gurgling to stop, at which point Corvo began to rifle through the it's belongings. In the thing's metal pouch he found what looked like valuables, and of course he seized the pistol. It was more advanced than anything he had ever seen. He tested the weight in his hands for a moment, and mock aimed it.

Just then, however, he heard movement from behind him. Something else had just ducked into the alley he was in. Looking up, he saw it held another of those pistols in it's hands. It looked like a human, more or less. Much to Corvo's relief. However, he noticed it had an odd skin discolouration and ridges where the hair should be. It spoke up with a decidedly feminine but strong intonation.

"Stop! Nos Astra Metro! Step away from the body and put down the gun!"

Corvo looked at the strange woman, and back at the gun. It appears that this strange place employed female watch officers, for whatever reason. Corvo shrugged, and decided that he would kill her quickly before any more showed up. As he was about to blink towards her, though, she touched her ear for some reason and began speaking.

"Control, this is Tracking Officer Dala. I have a code 187, possibly 419. Get me backup, now." She took away her hand from her ear.

Corvo wondered who she was talking to, as they were alone in the alley. Just then, he heard an alarm go off nearby, and cursed the Outsider for his misfortune.


	2. Chapter 2 : An Unfamiliar World

**Reviews : **

**-chrisman 1198 : Corvo might join Shepards team later on, but for now I want to develop his character in how he deals with a new world. It won't be so easy for Corvo to adjust to a new world with a culture entirely alien to him. You have to remember that Corvo was raised in what was essentially Victorian London, and will have some serious cultural values disonnance, which should be interesting to explore.**

* * *

Alarm sirens could be heard from all around his surroundings. Corvo found himself without words. He had been certain not to set off any alarms or traps, and the woman in front of him was the only one who had seen him with the corpse. Strange, though, how she just stood there. Expecting him to surrender perhaps?

If so, she was in for an unpleasant surprise. He couldn't afford to fool around anymore. The creature he had just killed had interesting armor, and he would've looted it from his corpse if he had time. Unfortunately, the alarms going off around him were the priority. He had to get to the shadows before any reinforcements showed up. He considered the pistol he had taken from the creature for a moment. It was unlike anything he had ever seen back in Gristol. It had a boxy design, but it the metal was sleek and smooth in texture. Not even the finest blacksmith in Dunwall could have made something like this.

Still, it's operations appeared to be standard enough, and he found the ergonomics to be even more conductive to aiming than a traditional pistol. Given from what he had seen of his accuracy, the monster he had taken it from must have been a very poor shot. Corvo felt like he could shoot a rat between the eyes with this thing, but he doubted the thug from before could hit the broad side of a whale with a Gristolean flintlock.

"I said drop it!"

Corvo's attention was suddenly taken from his considerations by the woman watch officer. She was still pointing her pistol in his general direction, but from what he had seen of these people's aim he had few worries in that department. He simply stared at the officer, planning his next move. How should he do this? He could just kill her with his blade, but that was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. It would be more distracting to the other guards if he summoned a swarm of rats to eat her alive, but he should probably conserve his spirit. There were doubtlessly more guards about, and he had little information as to their capabilities. Dunwall had been his home, so he was familiar with the defenses. Corvo doubted he would find many Tallboys or Overseers around here, wherever it was.

"Drop the gun and lose the mask, murderer. Drop them, now!"

The woman was getting impatient, and was now aiming at him actively. Corvo could see from the way she held her pistol that she may be a considerably better marksman than the previous creature, and may actually hit him if given the opportunity. A clever idea came to Corvo. He put up a placating gesture and placed the gun carefully on the ground. Feeling it for the first time, he could tell it was more of that impossibly well crafted metal. Whatever land this was possessed formidable blacksmiths.

Just as planned, the blue skinned woman lowered her guard. She was still clutching her pistol but was no longer aiming directly at Corvo. She switched to a single, left handed grip and drew her right hand to one of the pouches on her utility belt, no doubt to procure fetters to restrain him before the other watchmen arrived. Corvo grinned darkly beneath his mask, and felt the Outsider's power flow through to his left hand, even as he felt the dampness of spirit and gloom that always accompanied the expending of his magic.

"I told you to lose the mask." She said quietly as she approached him slowly, being cautious. Corvo had to silently applaud her. Many of the guards in Dunwall were not nearly so careful when approaching a suspect, usually trying to bull rush them and win with sheer brawn. Obviously, given Corvo's current still-among-the-living status, they were generally unsuccessful.

"What are you, anyways? You don't look like you're with Eclipse or the mercs. You some kind of weirdo…?"

She brought her handcuffs forward, about to arrest Corvo. Unfortunately for her, Corvo had fully charged a gust of wind in the palm of his left hand, and chose that moment to strike. At point blank range, it was like a tornado had engulfed the alley for a split second. The wind blasted the watch officer through the air, propelling her out of the alley and a good 30 yards into the air. Metal had warped in the alleyway, windows had been shattered by the gale force of the winds, and a nearby fire escape had been shredded as the blast of hurricane shot the woman forward like a bullet. Corvo picked up the gun again, and watched as the officer fell from a tremendous height, about to impact the ground head first.

But it would appear that fate had other ideas. Far outside the alleyway, on the other side of the metal streets a blue glow engulfed the officer. It grew, until it resembled a bubble just before the officer hit the ground. The glow reacted like some kind of net, catching the officers fall without injuring her, constricting as the force of the impact was dispersed harmlessly throughout the glowing blue force field.

Corvo raised an eyebrow. It looked like something Sokolov may have designed, like a wall of light that could be held in ones hands, and softened to prevent death from falling great heights. Corvo started to make his way forward from the ruined alley, with sheets of metal falling off of hinges on the walls and the sirens still blaring all over the street. He looked around, and saw more of the blue people. All of them were panicked and confused, from the sirens and from the wind blast that had exploded from the alley. Now many of them ran away, screaming for their lives.

_It seems that these people are unaccustomed to chaos_, observed Corvo. The woman he had launched to the other side of the metallic boulevard was just now recovering, getting up from the ground and breathing heavily. It seems that cushioning her fall with whatever magic she had used was more taxing than any of Corvo's spells.

He briefly considered finishing her off with his new pistol. He had seen how accurately it fired compared to what he was used to. He was certain that with his hands, he could shoot the wings off a crow roosting at Dunwall Tower all the way from the water lock. However, killing her now was impractical. The creature he had killed used three shots, and he had no idea what ammunition the weapon used of how to reload it. There seemed to be no place to load bullets, and he didn't have any that would fit through the barrel anyways. Even with a blink or two, the officer had been blown far enough away by the blast that trying to engage her in melee would be too risky.

Looking around him, Corvo could see that the streets had mostly been evacuated as the sirens rang and echoed throughout the metal walls of this city. Although he could see the skyscrapers going up into a beautiful sunset, The street he stood on seemed suspended in mid-air, like some of the rail lines he had seen that carried the corpse wagon to the flooded district in Dunwall...

But these railroads seemed a lot wider, and there weren't any tracks. A few of them led off into more alleys, and sometimes hallways for whatever reason.

_Flight would probably be the best option at this point. I don't know my way around here, and her countrymen could be here at any moment now_. Corvo's reviewed his options, and decided that this remaining here would only bring trouble. He wasn't too worried about the blue-skinned guardswoman. _Murder is probably commonplace in a city this size _ he mused. _And I'm still wearing my mask. But I'm worried about that magic I saw. Even I can't do anything like that... _His thoughts trailed off from there, as he blinked up to ventilation pipe above the alleyway he had just left, and climbed it onto the rooftops of the next building. It would be night time, soon, and child's play to lose the guards from there. With one last backwards glance at the downed woman with blue skin, still catching her breath, he turned and jumped off the roof and beneath a scaffold into the walkway below, hidden by the shadows cast by the gargantuan skyscrapers that dwarfed Dunwall Tower.

* * *

"Dala, thank the Goddess, are you okay?"

Tracking Officer Dala looked up to see Nehria, one of her colleagues from the station. _Ugh... I feel like I'm gonna throw up and my arm's feel like gelatin..._

"I'm...hff...fine...hff... hah...I just need to catch...my breath..." She was panting, and felt like she might be going into shock. That last minute barrier took everything she had, and it still felt like her hands might be broken. Whoever the hell that masked bastard was, he had some of the most powerful biotics she had ever seen. He threw her all the way across two pedestrian streets, and a good hundred meters into the air, two. She'd be a pancake right now if she hadn't put up that barrier at the last minute to cushion her fall.

"Tracking Officer, what happened here?"

Dala turned her head to the side, and saw her immediate superior, Lieutenant Syleira standing there with her M Series Avenger Assualt Rifle out and ready to go. A few other officers were also standing by.

She didn't know what to say to her, she could barely believe it herself. One minute she was about to arrest Feeron Dex, a blue sun enforcer that might have been able finally link them to the Dantius Corporation. She had been staking him out for hours, waiting to arrest him for the slightest chance to get him under the interrogation lamp. She knew she could've gotten him to fess up with enough time, and gotten rid of the blue sun presence on Illium with enough evidence.

Instead, she saw Dex go into a back alley on a major street, and followed him to see what he was up to. It seemed he had spotted some vagrant and was about to have some fun with him. She saw him pull out his gun from across the street and sprinted over to arrest him. What she found shocked her to her core. She saw the homeless man Dex had been accosting somehow got past and behind him, and arrived just in time to see him slit Dex's throat. All those months of hard work, casebuilding, and compiling evidence ended by some crazy homeless person with a fucking sword. And to top it all off, she not only lost the vagrant killer, but she nearly died doing so.

Still, Lieutenant Syleira was staring at her and expected an explanation. So she explained what had happened to the lieutenant and hoped she wouldn't get reprimanded on top of everything else.

"So, let me get this straight. Not only did you lose our only lead on the Blue Sun's connection to Dantius, but we also have some lunatic running around with military grade biotics?"

Nehria spoke up about that. "I saw the whole thing, LT, Dala came flying out of that alley like a missile, and it looks like a grenade went off in there, except Dex's body is still okay. It got tossed around a little, too, but he clearly died from a slit throat."

Lieutenant Syleira looked down for a moment and closed her eyes. "Shit." was all she said. "Looks like this op is a bust. Did you get a good look at him, at least?"

Dala shook her head in the negative, and looked thoughtful. "No, but he was wearing a very distinct mask. I'd never seen anything like it. It scared me for a moment."

The other officers raised there eyebrows at this, the unspoken question obvious to Dala. "It looked like someone had taken pieces of metal and melted it into pieces of a skull, and stitched them into a piece of cloth. The eyes looked like someone took out scopes from a rifle and stuck them into the skull's eye sockets..." She explained the man's extremely disturbing headgear in detail

Lieutenant Syleira remained impassive, but looked down thoughtfully as Nehria made a face "Ew. Well, I guess he won't be hard to spot, at least. Assuming he doesn't lose the mask."

Syleira spoke up "It sounds as homemade as anything I've ever heard of. We won't find any manufacturer for it. Still, put the word out." She turned to look at Nehria. "But keep this discreet. The last thing we need is for that Justicar to stick around any longer than she needs to, tracking down some serial killer-type."

Nehria nodded. Everyone knew the Justicar had just arrived this morning, hunting someone. Honestly, Dala hoped that this masked weirdo wasn't it. She would hate to see the collateral damage they could cause, an Asari Justicar and some biotic serial killer duking it out in the middle of the streets is a good way to scare off tourists and merchant clientele. She had caught her breath by now and gotten back to her feet. But she was still a little woozy, and should probably go see a clinic. She went off to follow the others back to the station and file a report. The alarms had been shut off.

* * *

Unbeknownst to the city watch however, a man in a mask stood just above the scene, on a rooftop. He seemed to have simply appeared from nowhere, and his presence went unnoticed. He had overheard everything.


	3. Chapter 3 : Inquiry In Eternity (Redone)

**Reviews:**

**-Valerianus : Thank you for the review, Valerianus. I've taken another look at the chapter, and you were right about a lot of it not making much sense. I had just been trying to railroad Corvo into buildup for the next chapter, but I neglected the story for this chapter in doing so. I've rewritten much of it, and I think it should make more sense now. Also, about Corvo's clothing. I've mentioned it a few times in this revision, but it may still feel like a handwave. Still, no one in the bar is really paying attention to Conrad Verner when Corvo walks in the room, and seem to just mind their own business when Shepard shoots him in the foot during the game, so I would imagine that Corvo dispatching him without weapons wouldn't raise too many eyebrows, despite his clothes. Still, I've addressed it, and I'll be sure to take his anachronistic clothing and other possessions into consideration in future chapters. Your feedback is appreciated.**

**-doom13 : Possibly, though I don't want to spoil anything. Corvo has already made quite a reputation for his masked alter-ego, which may attract the Justicar's attention. **

* * *

Corvo had so many questions. What was this place, what were these creatures that resembled humans? For what purpose had the Outsider sent him here? From what he could gather from the conversation he had overheard between the watchwomen, he could tell that he had once again been branded a felon. Fortunately, he could disappear anytime he wished. All he had to do was take off his mask.

So it was that he had come to this place. A pub, from what he could tell. He could not read the script on the sign above the entrance, but the atmosphere was suitable enough. More of the blue skinned creatures were here; definitely a majority. He also spotted a few of his fellow men mixed in with the crowd, and some curious, lizard-looking creatures with hunched backs and chitinous exoskeletons. They had sharp talons and mandibles in for mouths. Corvo had only heard of such creatures as a child on Serkonos, where they told stories of Pandyssian bog-monsters. He had yet to see another monster such as the one he had killed in the alleyway.

So he walked into the pub through the front door. He had foregone his mask, but kept his hood up and a sharp eye out. There didn't seem to be any of the blue-skinned watchwomen about, but he noticed an armored man leaning on the wall next to the entrance. He was a man, like himself. Probably a bouncer of some sort. Still, he was armed with what looked to be a larger version of the pistol he had taken, but with more curves. Corvo might have called it a musket, but it's barrel seemed pitifully short, and unnecessarily wide. That, and the lack of a bayonet, made Corvo give up on acquiring it; It would serve as a poor weapon in any case. So he averted his eyes before he was caught staring.

The pub had a tavern hall like none he had ever seen in Dunwall. It had more of those curved metallic walls, and the lights tinted everything a cool blue color.

Corvo continued approaching the bar proper. In Dunwall, at least, barkeeps were often purveyors of information and such. He just hoped that they accepted Gristolean coin. He had a good few thousand on him, but they'd be useless if he couldn't spend them, or at least break his 100's into smaller coinage. Of course, he wasn't counting on having to deal with a soldier accosting the serving wench.

"You're really holding out on me?!" The man inquired aggressively. Corvo noted that he was wearing an impressive suit of armor. From what he could see, it had few vulnerabilities, even at the joints. It would have been difficult to kill the man, had he the sense to wear a helmet. On the other hand, Corvo didn't have his mask on and he wanted to preserve his anonymity for the moment, so he couldn't just walk up and murder him.

"You want to see how far I'll go?" The belligerent soldier asked. He stared at the blue-skinned serving wench with murder in his eyes. To her credit, she was keeping her cool; Corvo supposed she might have to deal with drunken soldiers on a regular basis. Unfortunately for the inebriated man-at-arms, Corvo saw this as the perfect opportunity to ingratiate himself with the blue-skinned woman, and hopefully gain some information about his present circumstances. He walked silently behind the man as he leaned in threateningly over the counter "I learned how to shove a gun in people's faces from commander-Ughk!"

Corvo shoved the man up against the counter top. The bartender just nonchalantly took a step back, and started eyeing Corvo appreciatively.

"Oh..ow..ouch..." The soldier had suprisingly remained conscious despite hitting his face right on the counter. _He must have a hard head..._ Corvo concluded. "Why would you do that, dude? I was in the middle of interrogating this...this Red Sand dealer!"

The bar wench just rolled her eyes at that exasperatedly. "Are you kidding me? First of all, we don't sell red sand. Who told you that? Secondly, red sand is _legal_ on Illium, crap-for-brains."

"Nuh-uh!" Replied the soldier, who Corvo could only assume had a little too much whiskey, despite his oddly coherent speech. "An undercover cop manning the desk at Gateway Personal Defense gave me a tip that this place was a red sand backroom speakeasy!"

Corvo couldn't help but notice how he seemed to be ignoring the legality of this "red sand" substance entirely. "I think you've had a little too much to drink, soldier. Maybe you should head back home for the night."

"No way, I learned all about dealing with you _enforcer_ types from Commander Shepherd!" Whoever this man was, he clearly wasn't as bright as your average guard, and Corvo was starting to suspect that he wasn't inebriated at all. "What the hell are you wearing, anyways? You look like you walked out of one of those fantasy-vid conventions!" Corvo had no idea what a "vid" was, but whatever it meant, it seems as though Corvo's clothing made him stand out. Now that the soldier boy had pointed it out, the barkeep was starting to take note of his apparently odd choice of clothing as well. None of the other patrons of the bar seemed to pay any mind to the incident at all, though.

Corvo decided he needed to shut this guy up before he asked any more uncomfortable questions.

"I said, I think you'd better leave for the night." Corvo glared. He knew the soldier would never back down. Those types always had more courage than brains. Still, if he provoked him into making the first move, he could dispatch the buffoon without arousing too much suspicion.

The soldiers eyes narrowed, and started to look angry. "And I said No Way!" He pulled out a pistol from his side, "Can't you see this armor? I'm with N7! The most elite unit in the alliance! No way is any low-life scum like you gonna stop me from _Justice_!" Corvo seriously hoped that he was not the face of whatever this 'alliance' considered an 'elite' unit. From what Corvo could see, this guy could barely aim his pistol. "Yeah...you ain't telling me to scram, now, huh? Maybe you should leave, huh tough guy?" The bartender actually looked apprehensive at the appearance of a gun, but Corvo just rolled his eyes, much to the idiot's annoyance. "Hey, don't you-_Gah!"_

In mid-sentence, Corvo struck like a thunderbolt. He smashed his sword-arm into the fool's gun, intending to knock it out of his hand. He then executed a piercing fist strike to his stomach with his off-hand. His armor didn't hurt his hand as much as Corvo thought it would, but he was still unable to pierce it completely. Still, the soldier doubled over, and threw up a little on the floor before passing out quietly. The soldiers gun had, for some reason, completely shattered when Corvo's fist impacted it. Corvo picked up the shattered fragments of the weapon only to discover that it was made of some soft, smooth material, and the insides were completely solid. Behind Corvo, the bartender scoffed in disgust.

"Damned idiot. What kind of dumbass threatens people with a replica pistol? I swear, I was about to slap him with a singularity. Thanks for taking care of him, but can you take him outside with you when you head out? I don't want him dirtying up the floor..."

Corvo decided that now was probably the time for cooperation now that he had 'broken the ice' so to speak. "Certainly, ma'am. I hope you'll forgive the mess, but I was in a bit of a hurry."

She smiled appreciatively at Corvo. "No problem, handsome. You have a name?"

Corvo smiled, as well, hoping to keep her friendly. Corvo had never really had any experience socializing with women besides Jessamine...But hopefully he could get what he needed and be on his way before he embarrassed himself. "Attano. Corvo Attano. This is a fine tavern you run. I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me?"

She looked a little put off by his words. He hoped he hadn't said something to offend her. He really couldn't imagine what. She gave a cursory glance to his clothes once again, and he cringed at the scruntiny. He didn't want to stand out, especially without his mask on. She looked up at him thoughtfully. "You're no with some weird religion are you? That dumbass was right about one thing, those clothes make you look like you walked out of a story book or something..." She was getting suspicious of his clothing again. He should find a new outfit after he got the information he needed from here. It seemed like his current appearance was even more conspicuous than his mask had been in Dunwall.

"Sorry...My clothing is...traditional, where I'm from. I'm actually a little lost. Would you mind telling me what city this is?" Corvo had been tutored in the palace as a child, when he had first been chosen as Lord Protector for Empress Jessamine. It had been an arranged affair, but he had been educated in basic geography. If he could find out the name of this city, he should at least be able to determine if he was still in the Empire, although he doubted it. He had never heard of such fantastical creatures as these before. Perhaps this place was the continent beyond mystical and wild Pandyssia, and they had even more advanced machines than Sokolov or Piero.

"Lost, huh? That's... odd." She asked, more confused than anything else. It was understandable, Corvo supposed. He found it hard to imagine someone simply wandering into a city on their own as well. Still, it was more believable than the truth, that he had woken up here at the behest of the Outsider. Perhaps he required a more convincing lie? "Ah...yes." He smiled nervously "I came by ship you see, but I seem to have found an unfamiliar destination. I would be grateful if you would tell me where I have arrived at."

"Oh!" She said, understanding dawning on her. It would seem that she bought his story for now. He just had to be careful about what sorts of questions he asked. "I see. That sounds awful. Well, you're in luck. This is Nos Astra, on Illium. It's one of the biggest trading hubs in the republics. You could probably find a ship to just about anywhere in a few days time...assuming you have the cash, that is." Nos Astra upon Illium? Corvo had never heard of such a place. Still, he now knew that he was in some place called "The Republics". No such nation was on any map Corvo had studied, and lended credence to his theory of the place being beyond Pandyssia. He would have heard of their wonderous machinery if they had been a part of the empire, not even mentioning the myriad of odd and fantastical creatures this Nos Astra seemed to be home too.

Now to move on to the next issue. The Outsider had sent him hear for some reason, but whatever it was, nothing could come before Emily. Corvo was worried about her. She had only been installed upon her rightful throne some weeks ago, but the Outsider had been right in his understanding of her security on it. No one would dare try to oust the most popular monarch Gristol had ever had, especially with the support of Sokolov and Piero, along with the rest of Dunwall's intelligentsia. She may be in good hands, but Corvo needed to be there with her, to make sure nothing ever happened to her like it happened to Jessamine. "Have you ever heard of a place called Gristol? That is where I hail from, and I have urgent matters to attend to there."

The blue woman scratched her head and averted her eyes, but shrugged after a moment. "Can't say that I have, sorry. Maybe you could check out a star map?" Corvo was disappointed in her negative answer, but half expected as much. He must be truly far from his homeland. But her suggestion intrigued him. A Star Map? Perhaps she if referring to a map of the constellations in the sky, to pinpoint his location. Of course! Corvo was no astronomer, but he still remembered those warm summer nights, when he and Jessamine would lay on the grass and stargaze as children. She had taught him how to recognize a few of the constellations in the sky, like Ortho, the Wilder, or the Everyman. Surely he could find someone that could compare the maps to his own memory of the skies, and find his way back to Gristol.

Money should be no problem. Corvo had saved a small fortune in funds, with nearly two thousand Kaldwins in his coat pockets. Mostly Coins of 100, but he could probably find a moneychanger to break them without being ripped off too badly. Dealing with Piero had taught him the value of various items he scavenged, so Corvo could probably tell if he was being cheated.

He looked back at the woman and asked "That sounds like an excellent idea. Where might I find one of these...Star Maps?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment and told him "Well, the closest one would probably be at the Station District. They handle customs from off-world and immigration, as well as local policing. They'd probably let you have a look at it if you explain your situation. You can get there by going into the public transit over by the A-4 walkway." She smiled again at Corvo's befuddled look "It's the first right outside this building. Just look for the big, yellow aircar with next to the orange terminal. You can just tell it you want to go to the Station District and it'll take you there."

Corvo decided that he would do just that. He wasn't sure what she meant by talking to the terminal. Perhaps it was a device like the Loudspeaker in Dunwall Tower that was always making announcements, and he would be heard from afar, where someone would pull a lever and activate the machine or something. He would figure it out eventually. "Thank you very much, ma'am. I will not forget your kindness." He smiled at her to confer his gratitude. She seemed a great deal friendlier than many of the barkeeps he remembered from Dunwall, considering he had yet to purchase a drink. He decided he ought to reward her kindness.

"A token of my gratitude, 10 Kaldwins for your trouble, ma'am." He took out a Coin of 10, and flicked it over to her. She seemed surprised, but managed to catch the tenpiece. She seemed shocked to look at it. Perhaps she was unaccustomed to large tips? Remembering her request from earlier, he picked up the unconscious soldier and plopped him over his shoulder as he made his exit, and the woman stared at him in surprise and wonder.

* * *

Corvo was on his way to dump the soldier somewhere he wouldn't be found very quickly. He still needed to find some new clothes however, when an idea occurred to him. She had not seemed all that perturbed by this man's appearance, and only scoffed when Corvo had laid him low with a single punch from his sword-arm. Perhaps Corvo could use it to move about the city freely, unmolested. Come to think of it, the man had mentioned something about belonging to an elite unit of soldiers before Corvo neutralized him. Perhaps Corvo could utilize that to his advantage to grease the gears of the station he was headed to, and speed his way to passage back to Gristol.

So he stripped the man of his armor, and threw his unconscious body into an open dumpster beside the pub. Stenciled into the back of the armored belt was a name, undoubtedly of the armor's owner. "Conrad Verner", it read. So the man's name was Conrad Verner. He found a hidden place in a side alley behind the bar to change, and tied his coat into a sack, containing what belongings he had, while he found places to mount his weapons onto his new suit of armor. He kept his mask hidden in his coat-sack, along with whatever items wouldn't fit on the armor inconspicuously. So now he had entered a masquerade as an elite 'alliance' soldier, whatever the 'alliance' was. He would have to be convincing if he was going to get away with this. He was an elite, "N7" soldier, according to Verner, so he would borrow his name along with his armor.

Corvo then made his way to the public transport the barkeep had helpfully described, and dearly hoped he could figure it out in a timely manner.


	4. Chapter 4 : A Terrible Discovery

Detective Anaya was having a bad day. Not only did she have to deal with paperwork, gang violence, and drug trafficking, but now an uppity volus merchant who didn't seem to understand the implications of being a suspect in the murder of his business partner. The victim had been killed up close by a single shotgun blast. Pierced right through his exo-suit, practically melting the brains out of his skull. Now this little cretin couldn't be bothered to stay for the investigation of his business partner's death, never mind he was basically the prime suspect.

"I _*gasp*_ told you _*gasp*_. I have to deal with very pressing matters _*gasp*_ elsewhere. There's no reason to think that I murdered _*gasp*_ my own business associate." Goddess, but his voice was annoying. She couldn't stand the wheezing little midget, but she had to be professional. If she compromised this case by losing her temper, she'd never here the end of it. There were also the two turian bodyguards to take into consideration. Right now they were eyeing her with a look she didn't like at all. Not that she believed they would start something right in front of the police station, but it'd be a different story if she made the first move.

"But I suppose _*gasp*_ that if you insist on delaying me, there's not _*gasp*_ much I can do about it. _*Gasp*_ just hurry up your investigation _*gasp*_ will you, detective?"

"Pitne For. Just stay put until we have this case closed. There's a justicar investigating the matter as we speak. If you were telling the truth about those eclipse mercs and don't have anything to hide, then we should be done soon enough."

She turned and walked back to the station, intent on getting done with enough paperwork today that she could afford to take some time off when the justicar finally left to go find whoever she was hunting next. Goddess knows she could use a break, with Lt. Syleira in such a bitchy mood that day. No surprise, with Dala losing the Dantius-Blue Suns angle with a corpse on her hands.

When she got to the entrance though, she saw something she'd never expect to see on Illium. A man in N7 armor just waltzing up to the station like he owned the place. _What's an alliance special forces soldier doing this far into asari space?_ She thought to herself. He was wearing the standard gray N7 armor with a red stripe going down the right shoulder. He wasn't wearing a helmet, though, and she saw that he had unshaven stubble on his face, and a haircut that she refused to believe was regulation.

He had already made his way into the station when Anaya caught up to him. The station was sort of a mess with the whole justicar thing going on. _More so than usual anyways, _she quipped silently. He didn't seem sure where to find whatever it was he was looking for. He scanned the lobby, but seemed to be confused. Anaya decided that she'd better sort this out before the justicar got back. They were trying to avoid turning the station district into a warzone, and the last thing she needed was an N7 marine and an asari justicar duking it out right in front of the goddess damned police station.

"Excuse me, sir? May I ask what your business is here? Right now isn't exactly a good time to be snooping around the station district. " He seemed a little suprised at being addressed so suddenly, but recovered quickly enough to turn around and speak to her. What she hadn't noticed at first became readily apparent. The man was armed to the fucking teeth. He had crossbows, grenades, bolts of various sizes, two pistols, and a few things she couldn't identify strapped to his N7 armor. She gulped nervously. She hoped whoever he was that she wouldn't have to deal with a trigger-happy commando in the middle of the station. Why he chose such odd weaponry was a mystery to her, but she supposed that special forces weren't as uniform as regular soldiers, and probably had specialized gear loadouts for all of their missions.

"Ah, you might be able to help me with that." He answered jovially. A human might have mistaken it for friendliness, but Anaya was an asari. She saw past his fake smile and upbeat tone. He seemed a little nervous, but it was his eyes that really gave him away. Cold black orbs that seemed sharp enough to split a projectile into _two_ rice grain sized fragments. At first, after seeing his odd choice in weaponry, she held a smidgen of doubt that he was legit. Maybe some sort of alliance fanboy. His eyes quickly disabused her of any such notion. Those were the eyes of a killer.

"My name is Conrad Verner, an N7 Elite. I was hoping that someone here could assist me on a matter of some importance." He paused, clearly prompting her to volunteer her assistance. Anaya guessed she didn't really have any choice if she wanted to maintain any control over the situation. So she asked him "And what kind of 'assistance' are you looking for? For that matter, what's an alliance marine doing this far into asari space?"

He seemed to have been thrown off balance a little by that last comment. A slight twitch of his eyebrow, nothing more. "I was led to believe that this facility had access to astrological charts. I'm in need of them for my mission, you see. I'm certain I'll be out of the asari's hair as soon as I get what I need."

Anaya rolled her eyes. She couldn't believe this. Trained killer or no, she really didn't need this right now. Having to deal with a justicar was one thing; that was just part of being an asari. But this was some Alliance spook who waltzed up into _her_ station like he owned the place. "Do you even have a cartography or navigation liscense, pal? On illium, if you don't have your papers, you're pretty much screwed."

He looked down, thoughtful for a moment. "I...No." He had the grace to admit. "Look, I'm sure whatever business the Alliance needs done is important, and maybe it can't wait for you to book passage the old fashioned way. Normally, I'd just let this slide and let you take what you needed and out of my life and Illium's business. But right now, there's a shit storm on the rise, and we have our hand's full just running damage control."

The N7 marine looked excited at this, though she had no idea why. When suddenly the implications of her words dawned on her. "How about if I help you with your problems, you help me with mine?" The N7 asked. "I'm sure an elite N7 can handle anything this town can throw at me." Anaya felt vaguely insulted by those words, thinking that he was belittling law enforcement just because he was some hotshot commando. But he hadn't said the words with an overtly arrogant tone, and his expression didn't give the impression that he was being intentionally offensive. Still, she bristled a bit at the comment, and raised a nonexistent eyebrow.

Come to think on it, she did need to clear some things off of her desk. She really needed a break soon, and there was no way she'd be able to check out all of the leads she had before tommorrow, when she'd have to work overtime on what was supposed to be a personal day. And besides, she internally grinned mischievously, who would miss a couple of navigational charts? The only reason they were restricted on Illium was because of their details on various trade routes, and the potential they would have for an enterprising pirate or slaver operation. She doubted she'd need to worry about that from a lone N7 marine anyways. "Maybe so, N7. I've got a few things on my desk I could use help with, if you really need the charts that bad. It's not strictly official, but I've got a lot on my plate and these cases could use some discretion anyways, if you know what I mean."

The N7 actually grinned darkly at those words.

"Discretion is my _watchword_."

* * *

Corvo had to admit, this had become a difficult situation. From what the guardswoman had told him, if he wanted to gain access to the star charts he needed to get home, then he would have to help deal with some of the more undesirable elements of a local gang of some sort. Corvo had wanted to deal with the matter immediately, the sooner to make his return to his home island. There was nothing but cityscape in sight, for miles around, here. It would be a chore just to get to the sea, and then he had to worry about actually getting to Gristol. Never mind pirates and raiders, the waters past Pandyssia were supposed to be infested with demons and sea monsters. From what he had seen of the local populace, he supposed that the tales hadn't been all _that_ inaccurate...

But for now Corvo had other matters to attend to. He still required a place to rest, and store his supplies. Unfortunately, the bureaucracy around here seemed to be even worse than Dunwall. He'd seen more videographs just walking down the street here than all of Dunwall, some of which seemed to exist for the sole purpose of displaying textual information or what he assumed were advertisements. It was maddening, the technology these people had. _I wonder why the Outsider didn't send Piero, hell, even Sokolov. They'd have had to be dragged away from here kicking and screaming if we wanted them back. _Corvo though wryly. He hadn't really had a chance to fiddle with the pistol he had looted from the corpse of that four-eyed monster in the alleyway. How such a creature could operate machinery or even walk upright was beyond him.

By now, though, he had made his way into the lower district, as he had come to call it. The guardswoman from earlier had told him to hold off for a few days while someone called "The Justicar" finished whatever business they had here. For some reason, she didn't seem too keen on the idea of his running into them. Perhaps they were a rival organization to the "N7" that he was impersonating using stolen armor. Corvo didn't really want to wait around for that idiotic soldier he knocked unconscious to report his armor stolen, but the guardswoman had left him little choice.

Now, he was searching for a...Safehouse, of sorts. A Hideout. He needed to find somewhere inconspicuous and out of the way, but with access to food and other supplies he might have need of, such as ammunition. He still hadn't figured out where the reloading port was for his new pistol. He had only ten explosive bullets on his person at the moment, and he had learned to save those for special occaisons. Besides, his mystical powers, gifted by the Outsider, should be more than enough for what he had in mind.

Quite simply, his idea came to him when the guardswoman he had met earlier was explaining the nature of his task. She had wanted him to...remove a few of the criminal elements that had evaded justice due to legal niceties and shrewd lawyering. Corvo had been all for it, which seemed to surprise the woman for some reason. The courts here must have been very strict with the treatment of suspected criminals, unlike his Dunwall. Although, he may have a tainted view of the place. He had, after all, conducted most of his business in the poorer parts of town only in the lowest point of Dunwall's history, on the brink of falling into chaos. Still, he had spent six months in the bowels of Coldridge prison, and that interrogation room was not a recent installation. Corvo was unsure Empress Jessamine really knew about many of the horrors that had been in Coldridge, or the Abbey of the Everyman.

But thinking about such things right now did little good. He had made his way to what was sure to be a seedy part of town. There had been detailed maps on one of the videographs he had seen while leaving the guard outpost where he met the guardswoman. He didn't have any way to take it with him, at least not without attracting undue attention. So he familiarized himself with it enough to have a rough grasp of the different areas in the city and how to navigate himself back to the guard outpost. But he had been boggled by the scale of it. The city must have been three times the size of Dunwall if the map had been to scale, according to his measurements of the guard outpost. That was no ordinary achievement. Perhaps he could bring some of the amazing technology the city seemed to possess with him back to Gristol. Piero and Sokolov could probably whip up some amazing technology if he could get them some samples.

The seedy part of town was obvious, even in such an advanced city. He saw a rather large proportion of pubs, taverns, and what he assumed to be brothels, with the state of dress the various blue women were in. He had seen more than a few of his own people as well, or at least his fellow men, if not his compatriots. There was minimal lighting down here, below the towering skyscrapers on the huge metal cliffs above. It was like some sort of urban valley down here, an undercity unto itself. He had not seen a single police officer down here, but the region didn't seem to be totally lawless. Most of the murders and rapes he had seen down here had taken place in back alleys, at least, rather than the middle of the street. Corvo had remember that certain gangs in Serkonos would organize themselves into strict hierarchies, and live by codes of honor that they self-enforced. It was a shaky and dubious order, but at least both Serkonos and apparently this undercity were not in _complete_ chaos.

Right now he was scoping out one such gang. They were armored similarly to the monster he had killed in the alleyway, with deep blue colors and a white sphere painted on the breastplate. It seemed foolish, to Corvo. It was like painting a bullseye over your heart. Perhaps they were truly that confident in the impregnability of their armor? Corvo himself had opted to stow his stolen disguise away in a hidden air vent he had found behind the guard outpost. He would check back in a few days from now, and reassume the guise of Conrad Verner, N7 Elite. He had now donned his usual attire, mask and all. His blade would serve him well here, with the paucity of replacement ammunition for his usual gun and crossbow. The Heart had also proven extremely useful in finding a place to make his lair. He had simply directed it to various buildings, and received various criptic, or disturbing information about them. He really wished he had not found out what that old aircar repair hangar had been used for...

Right now he was crouching on the roof of one of metallic buildings these creatures seemed fond of building. He was peeking from just above was random, waist-high cover that he seemed to find everywhere, even outside of Dunwall...

He had learned some interesting things about these blue-armored monsters from his past few minutes of observation. Apparently, they practiced slavery. He had seen them prod a few more strange creatures into their building, He even saw a few of the blue women among the slaves, and some women of his own race. For some reason, the male slaves were few in number. The odd creatures seemed most prevalent, though. They had odd masks with glass visors that covered their faces, and wore constrictive clothing that didn't expose even a speck of skin.

Slavery was a controversial issue between the common class and the aristocrats, who unfortunately still controlled parliament. Corvo himself was firmly against it, as was Emily. Oh how he missed her, and here he was, in some wretched undercity on the far side of Pandyssia. He didn't approve of any slavery of course, but especially not of his own kind, let alone defenseless women. Still, he found the masks and suits the odd creatures wore to be unsettling; too reminiscent of Daud's Whaler's, and brought up bad memories.

But now was not the time for doubts or hesitation. They were bringing in slaves, and Corvo doubted that they were there for forced labor, given the lack of clothing many of them shared. That meant that this place was some sort of sick and twisted house of pleasure; where rich men came to satisfy their lust and violence at the expense of innocent women. That meant that they would doubtlessly have refreshments for the "noble" upper classes to enjoy. Corvo's stomach growled in agreement. He had not eaten since noon of yesterday, by his estimate. But before he could think of matters of gastronomical nature, he heard something that chilled his bones to the core.

"Help! Please! Mommy! Somebody! I don't wa _-Ughk!" _ a child had been taken out of the trucks the four-eyed monsters had been taking the slaves from, and ushered into the building. While most of the slaves seemed to be resigned to despair and looked empty inside, the little girl had been desperately calling for help-from a parent, from a stranger, from anyone. She had light brown, hair, short cut. From this far away...she almost looked like a younger Emily Kaldwin. She was sobbing softly, now, having been silenced by a swift backhand by one of the four eyed..._things_. Even a monster knew better than to do some things. A monster would not harm a defenseless child in the presence of Corvo Attano, it had _some_ base survival insticts after all.

A monster would not choose death over life, as these creatures had just done.


	5. Chapter 5 : The Death of Slavesman

**Reviews - Jouaint : Possibly, but I don't want to spoil anything. Suffice to say that Corvo won't be working alone for long, and it'll be at least a couple more chapters before he gets any noteworthy allies. He still has quite a while on before he leaves Illium, and even then, it won't necessarily be on the Normandy.**

**Author Note: This chapter features graphic descriptions of violence and strong language. Reader discretion is advised.**

* * *

This operation was going better than could be expected so far. Captain Urgal's contacts had really pulled through. The 'indentured servant' market on Illium was strong enough that no one would notice if a few of them went missing on route to Nos Astra. After that, all Captain Urgal's contacts had to do was fudge the records around a little and it'd be like they never existed. Right now, Frencol was just finishing up loading a few crates with some of the supplies they had picked up in this warehouse. In reality it was more of a clandestine hangar.

An M-2 Shuttle was docked on a landing pad below retractable blast doors on the roof of the warehouse. Aside from that, there were some service hallways and a control room on the second floor. Captain Urgal and his lieutenants would probably be in the control room. Right now, a batarian slaver named Nolus was helping Frencol pick up the last of the boxes while the others packed the slaves into the shuttle. "So how do you think we got this many so far into council space?" Frencol asked. He had participated in a few raids before, but always deep into the terminus systems. "Ha! Captain Urgal has some sort of deal with that asari, Dantius. If she ever needs someone disappeared, she sends 'em our way and we get to make a tidy profit without all the shit we have to deal with in the terminus."

Frencol supposed he Nolus was right. It _was_ a good arrangement, but they were deep in Citadel territory. Something was bound to go wrong at some point. Especially now that they had kidnapped that special target. For whatever reason, Some spooks had come up to the captain and contracted him to specifically kidnap that little human girl. Frencol didn't know what the deal was, but they must have paid top dollar. The captain usually didn't take individual contracts on Illium. Too much risk involved. The indentured servant market made for far easier prey, aside from Dantius' misled cronies.

"Hey, did you hear that?" Nolus asked him. Frencol had been focusing on packing some ration packs, so he hadn't noticed whatever Nolus was talking about. "No. What did you hear?"

"I could've sworn I heard something from over there…" Nolus looked around in front of him, and proceeded down to the entrace to a poorly lit side-hallway. "The hell is this...?" Frencol followed Nolus and looked for whatever he was talking about. "Looks like a broken bottle." Frencol said, somewhat unnecessarily. "Nah, you think?" Nolus replied sarcastically. Frencol could be a stupid kid sometimes, but he was Lieutenant Drek's nephew, and he was new anyways, so Nolus had to babysit him and show him the ropes. "Look how far it is from the wine crates. Don't care how 'exotic' this shit is, wine doesn't just throw itself halfway across a warehouse."

Frencol didn't think so either, but he refrained from voicing it due to Nolus' previous sarcastic jibe. "I didn't see any of the slaves escape, though..."

Nolus began too turn around, and scanned the hangar area. "We're alone, it looks like...Maybe it was that prick, Jabrath. Hhrn. Still, Urgal'll have two of our eyes plucked out if we lose one of the slaves...Go check the shuttle, ask Grell if he's missing any 'inventory'. I'll look around for Jabrath, see if he's fucking with us again..."

Frencol had heard that Nolus and Jabrath had something of a legendary rivalry in Urgal's outfit. Maybe they would finally kill each other. Frencol walked up onto the shuttle platform and did a quick scan of the area. No one was fanning out to search, so he probably wouldn't find anything. He walked over to the shuttle's side where Grell was messing with his omni-tool, probably downloading some asari porn while they were still on Illium.

"Hey Grell, Nolus asked me to do a quick check, see if any slaves got out. We heard some weird noise, and found a broken bottle of that new wine Urgal brought from Dantiu's office."

The other pirate was clearly not appreciating the interruption, from whatever it was he had been doing. "Eh. We aren't missing anyone. I just checked two minutes ago. All slaves accounted for and ready for transport to Omega for the auction. It was probably just some FNG that wanted to try some of the Captain's wine. Poor bastard's gonna need a couple of eyepatches by tomorrow, you ask me."

Frencol sighed. He'd just go find Nolus, and have him tell Captain Urgal. Nolus was supposed to be in charge, let him bring the Captain some bad news. He could see the side-hallway from here, and jogged over to see if Nolus found Jabrath. If he did, Nolus'd probably want to blame it on him, see if he could get his arch-enemy in some trouble with the Captain. "Hey, Nolus? You find anyone?"

No answer. Frencol thought that was weird. The hangar/warehouse wasn't all that large; Nolus should've been able to hear him all the way from the second floor. "Hey, Nolus, wha-FUCK!"

Frencol had just rounded the corner, and was greeted by the sight of what was left of Nolus. He looked mostly the same, except his head had decided to take a vactaion from his body and onto the wall that separated the hallway from the main hangar area. What really caught his attention, though, was a message written on the wall, in Nolus's blood. It looked like someone had used his head like a paintbrush, and decided to graffiti the wall with it.

"Behind You...?"

Frencol froze. He hadn't seen anything at all...but slowly turned around to see...Nothing? He looked and saw only a wall where a little of Nolus' blood had spattered. He looked down, to activate his omni-tool, but suddenly he felt cold metal on the back of his neck. A moment later, he felt it drive into him and come out from his throat. He saw it there, stainless steel and razor sharp. He tried to reach for his gun, but then he realized he couldn't feel his arms, or his legs, or anything from the neck down. Someone must've sliced his spinal cord. The last coherent thought he had before everything went dark formed into words, with his last breath "Why...?"

The muffled but menacing voice that answered simply stated "Revenge." Fade to black.

* * *

"Captain Urgal, some shit is going down, sir!" The captain rubbed his head-ridge, still nursing a migraine. He had way too much to drink this morning, and was paying for it dearly. He would just have to satisfy himself with one of the slaves, later. "What is it now, Jabrath?" He asked irritably._ I swear, if he wasn't one of my top lieutenants I'd slice his eyes out for interrupting me... _He thought to himself. He had just been balancing some of their expenses against the expected profit these slaves would bring in, particularly the juvenile human female he had been contracted to grab. Some spooks had offered him enough money to retire on and live like a king, but it had all been over the extranet or through middlemen. He suspected the shadow broker, possibly Cerberus. For the life of him he couldn't figure out what was so goddamn special about the little brat, she had been screeching and whining the whole way. Nolus had to hit her with his rifle's stock just to shut her up. Still, you don't cough up 2 million credits for just any little dirty human spawn...

"Sir, we found Nolus and Frencol dead, and Grell, too."

Urgal was really shocked at that. "What the fuck? Dantius said she'd protect us from Eclipse, tell em' to back off..."

Jabrath seemed to gulp at that. "We uh...we don't think it was eclipse, sir. We found some weird ass messages written in blood on the walls, and also..."

"The fuck? We dealin' with some kind of psycho, now? I thought you said the warehouse was secure!"

Jabrath seemed to waver for a moment, unsure, but he recovered in a moment. "It was, sir! We checked all the gates, no signs of forced entry. And...I tried raising Otom's squad on the comm, but...only got noise, sir..."

Shit. Otom's squad were their heavy hitters. If they weren't reporting in, something big was going down. "What about Reizer? You find him?"

Jabrath brightened up a little "Ah, I hadn't thought'a that! I'll call him up, get everybody up here." He activated his omni-tool, and the orange holographic gauntlet enveloped his forearm. He pressed a few keys on the holopad, and brought it up to his mouth. " Reizer, this is Jabrath. We've lost contact Otom's boys, and we have three dead bodies on our hands. Respond."

He waited for a moment, and was about to call again, when Urgal heard the distinct crack of a comm-line opening up over the omni-tool. "Listen!" he commanded, and Jabrath brought his arm down.

"Please! Please...Oh god, no! Shit..." They heard Reizer, shouting, along with some wild gunfire. It seemed to echo, as they heard it on the comm-line, and coming from the other side the hangar, where Reizer was supposed to be on look-out duty by the windows on the catwalks that connected the 1st and 2nd floors. Urgal and Jabrath were in the control room on the second floor, and Jabrath looked at Urgal with wide eyes. Urgal just grimaced. "Reizer! Respond, what the fuck is going on down there?!" He grabbed Jabrath's omni-tool covered arm and looked into the vid-screen. It showed Reizer's face, there. It was covered in some blood, but Reizer seemed to still be alive. He was breathing hard, though, and had a look of terror that Urgal had never seen on the hardened pirate's face, even when they were under fire by the Blood Pack.

"Fuck! Stay the fuck away!" Urgal could see Reizer clench his teeth and try to close his eyes. Looks like he was really losing his shit... "I-I said get away! Just leave me alone! Lea-GAH! Fuck!" Urgal saw what looked like a thick needle sticking out Reizer's suit, right where his collarbone would be. His shield's must've been pretty depleted, but Urgal'd never seen a weapon like that before. Maybe some kind of poison dart... He saw Reizer try to yank it out, only to start gritting his teeth in pain. Both Urgal and Jabrath continued watching silently. "I'm...I'm sorry...agh!...Just, please...no...No! Not the rats, no please god no not the rats! Gahrg! Ahhhhh...! Urgal and Jabrath watched as what looked like dozens of rats crawled all over Reizer and start tearing the flesh from his exposed face with their teeth, while others already tore his armor from his bit by bit. They heard a hundreds of little screeches coming from the things as they gleefully ate their comrade alive. They could see all four of his eyeballs being ripped out as he screamed in horror and agony. It was like a goddamned horror vid. They watched as a couple of them crawled into his mouth and ripped his tongue apart while others tore out his teeth. By now most of his head had been eaten by the strange creatures that looked nothing like the vermin they were used to back on Khar'Shan. Instead of tiny little bald rodents with leathery skin and four eyes, these creatures had course, black hair all over them and terrifying, glowing red eyes, with what seemed like long, thick worms for tails and hands with claws. They saw that these creatures had eaten off most of Reizer's face, and they could see the bloodied skull beneath the swarm of angry little monsters. Off the screen, they had apparently been doing the same to the rest of him, as the omni-tool in his gauntlet suddenly stopped transmitting, and Jabrath's screen again showed only white noise, eerily similar to the response from Otom.

Urgal and Jabrath stared eachother in the four of their eyes in silence. Urgal noticed the distinct smell of batarian urine in the air, and was about to call Jabrath a coward, if only to reaffirm his own courage. Until he felt the sloshing in his armor, and realized that Jabrath was not the only one who had lost control of themselves in terror. "Soldier." Urgal said simply.

"Captain..." Jabrath responded with a quivering voice. "We're getting the fuck out of here. Holy shit, holy shit, I have never seen something so fucking real as that. Start the fucking shuttle and get us the fuck out of here." Urgal had said the entire spiel while holding a completely businesslike and unconcerned voice level, unlike Jabrath, a normally proud little prick who was now on the verge of tears. Urgal didn't give him any shit for it, because he was _this_ close to losing it himself. He had just seen, on Jabraths fucking High Definition holoscreen, one of his oldest friends eaten alive and torn apart by hell-creatures from some ungodly pit in Illium. He had served with Reizer in the Blitz. Reizer had never surrendered, never cracked under interrogation from the alliance. He was the bravest man Urgal knew, besides himself. And those hairy little abominations had made him _beg_ for mercy, for _forgiveness_, of all things... Urgal and Jabrath bolted for the door without another word. Urgal had the sense to look around for a few seconds, and saw the carnage before him. Dead batarians littered the catwalk everywhere, and the blood seemed to splash out in wild patterns, like nothing he had ever seen. He was used to seeing clean kills from gunshot wounds...but this...this was what he had always though hell would look like, when he saw it in his nightmares. Severed heads, limbs...Gargo, one of Reizer's boys, was cut clean in half, and the two Gargo slices fell side by side with his insides showing, making Urgal feel sick.

He spotted a skeleton there, and saw what was left of Reizer. Nothing but blood and bones. Then he noticed Jabrath was still bolting ahead, like an idiot. "Dumbass, stop! Watch out fo-" Click. "Gharagghh!" Too late. Jabrath stepped on some kind of sadistic landmine, that shot out sharp, bladed wires in a fury that ripped into the unprotected parts of his armor, and all across his face. They had tangled him up in the wire, with little razor blades attached to the wires that dug into Jabrath. 'Gahhgg...ahnnn...nngg..." He was gurgling. One of the wires had sliced into his mouth, while a few others had dug into his eyes and another sliced his nose in two. He was drowning in his own blood. "Ghe...ghelp..mhee..." Urgal fell back to the railway of the catwalk. He was crying, now. He waited for what seemed like hours while Jabrath slowed drowned, begging his captain to save him while Urgal just sat there on the cold catwalk junction between the two stairwells. He could see the shuttle from here, down there in the hangar with all the slaves safely loaded up. Urgal prayed to every god of every pantheon he could think of. Hell, he prayed to the fucking Enkindlers the hanar wouldn't shut up about...He promised he would never slave again if he got out of here. He would release all those slaves, let 'em go...turn himself in to the nearest Illium Security Force station. Confess everything. About Dantius, Santiago, even the Skyllian Blitz. His arms were shaking...and he dropped his gun down over the railing, covering his face with his hands and doing his best to curl into a ball and still sobbing all four of his eyes out. "Please...somebody...anybody...help me..." He begged pathetically. He had lost control of his bladder and bowels...and was shivering with pure terror and menace.

"Thats funny..."

a voice called out, and he soon realized, from right in front of him. He felt strong fingers grip him by the neck, and lift him into the air above the 2 story drop from the catwalk. He opened his eyes, and saw the demon. It had eyes that looked like scope lenses, and a face made out of scrapped together metal tied with wire. It looked like a human skull, of which Urgal had seen many in his time. "Ghrgh..." He struggled to breath through the monster's iron grip, and he could see a swarm of rats on the catlwalk that hadn't been there a moment ago...he remembered Reizer's last moments, his dying words pleas for mercy and screams of torment. "Please, no, oh god not the rats! Please, just kill me, but god no not the rats!" He begged for death, like a tortured, shrieking animal. "I can remember those words, creature. I heard them before, while I was watching you." The monster intoned with venom in his voice, with a flanging that sounded almost turian, until Urgal realized how ridiculous that idea was. This was no turian, or any other being he had ever seen. Whatever it was, Urgal was certain that Hell was the only place it called home...He was too frightened to truly take in it's appearance, but couldn't stop staring at it's horrible, metal face, with splotches of blood staining it. He could tell that the monster was absolutely drenched with the stuff, wearing the blood like cologne, almost. "That little girl...did you listen to her when she begged for mercy? For her mother? For _anyone_ to help her?" The monster chuckled again, with a horrible flanging, acoustic echo from inside it's metal face. "Well...she did say anyone. Though I suspect I am not _precisely_ who she had in mind." There was amusement in the monster's words, but his words were hollow. Like he felt that mere words could not properly represent his hatred.

"I-I-I'm sorry! I'll, I'll, _ghrgg_, I'll never do it again! I'll let them all go! Free! I'll turn myself in, confess everything! Please not the rats, for the love of god not the rats!"

"Do you know where you are right now, creature...?" The monster intoned menacingly. Urgal was too terrified and could barely breath, so he simply shook his head visibly as he shivered in terror. "You are in the void, creature. And I...am...the Outsider. If you tell me what I want to know, maybe I'll let you wake up from this nightmare with your head still firmly attached..."

Urgal was not about to say no to even the thinnest thread he was tossed "Yes, god, anything, yes! I'll tell you anything! Anything!"

"First, what are you, creature, and what did you plan to do with those that you took?" Urgal thought that this was an odd question with an obvious answer, but determined that perhaps now was not the time to question the man currently grasping him off the ground by his neck with a single hand, and hungry rats nipping at his heels even as they fell to the floors below..."I-I'm a batarina. From Khar'Shan! We all are! W'we're pirates! Slavers! We were kidnapping these people to bring them to Omega, t-to sell them in a slave auction...an-and these weird guys were paying us to kidnap that little girl from her parents here...two women...an asari and a human..." The Outsider, as he called himself, stared at the slave shuttle for a moment, puzzled, perhaps. Urgal felt tempted to inform him about the shuttle, and spill all the beans on his plan, bult decided it was safer to only speak when spoken to.

"Asari? Omega?" The Outsider asked simply. Urgal eagerly explained, hoping to distract the man from killing him, praying that maybe one of the other gangs heard something and decided to investigate. "The blue ones! With the tentacles on their heads! All women, monogendered, can fuck practically anything if it can talk, and they'll make a baby with it! Omega's this station out in the terminus, used to be a mine, but then pirates like me took it over and turned it into a base, now Aria runs it..." The Outsider paused for a moment, then looked back at Urgal. "One last question...Who do you work for?"

Urgal wasn't sure how to answer that, as he was a largely independant pirate and slaver. He still wore the Blue Sun colors for protection, but he'd stopped taking orders from Santiago ever since he betrayed Massani. He may have been a merc, but even scum have codes. But he was certain that his continued breathing, difficult as it was, depended on a prompt and at least plausible answer. "N-Nassana Dantius. I work for her! S-she's this asari that pays me to get rid of people she wants disappeared, so she sends em' to me on fake errands and we grabbed em'! They're all in the shuttle, safe and sound, still alive!"

The Outsider nodded. "I see. I'll let you go, now." Urgal felt a surge of joy, until he the grip on his neck disappeared and he went crashing down into the floor. With a sickening _crunch, _he felt his legs being broken by the impact, bending forwards instead of backwards. "Grahh!" He screamed, and writhed in pain. Then he spotted the rats, scampering down the catwalk as the Outsider looked on from above, waving goodbye to him. He tried crawling away on his arms, but the rats were already upon him. The last thing he saw before everything went dark were the rats eating out all four of his eyeballs, and he screamed in agony and terror. Then they started eating into his skull, and he died when enough of his brains had been bitten out.

* * *

Corvo surveyed the finale of his handiwork. In just under three quarters of an hour, by his estimate, he had eliminated the offending 'batarians'. He had gained some useful information out of the last one. He walked down the steps at a leisurely pace, waiting for the rats he had summoned to conclude their meal, and disperse. He had used up two of his bolts, so far, and had no idea how he would get them back. Perhaps he would find a way to make some, with all of this metal laying around. He had noticed that the guns the slavers used were far superior to anything they had in Dunwall. Guns that never needed to be reloaded, and muskets that could shoot dozens of shots in mere moments. He would have to remember to bring some back when he returned to Gristol. Piero and Sokolov would be overjoyed, and perhaps Emily could enjoy greater security on her throne from the greedy eyes of the oppurtunistic islands. When Corvo had been dragged here by the Outsider, he had just aided Admiral Curnow in routing the blockading fleet in Dunwall harbor. The new Empress had few ships to her name, but Curnow was an able commander, and Corvo ensured that the enemy navy found itself without a command staff. Redmoor sent an official letter of surrender shortly after, furnished with lavish gifts and the head of their then-king, courtesy of his council of advisers.

Still, Corvo had best see to the slaves that the 'batarians' had captured. He should see if they knew how to pilot the odd looking vehicle they had been stuffed into. He was particularly interested in reuniting the little girl who so resembled Emily with her family. He only thanked the Outsider for the powers that allowed him to succeed here where he failed in Dunwall. According to the slaver-lord he had just left at the mercies of his swarm of rats, she one of the girl's parents was apparently a bluewoman just like the guardswoman who had contracted him to remove the other criminals from Nos Astra, Apparently they were called asari, and could breed with either gender of any race capable of speech, however that worked... Still, Corvo believed that he could use this place as a base for the time being, once he used his magic to turn the slaver's corpses to ash. He chewed on the third pack of rations he had stolen, and grabbed a bottle of wine to wash down the terrible slop these batarians called food. The wine was thankfully much more agreeable, and Corvo almost regretted chugging down such a fine vintage. It was a good thing that he was used to much stronger stuff, from Dunwall. The wine tasted more like Piero's remedy than actual alcohol. He did feel in slightly higher spirits, so perhaps he could use it as a substitue, provided he didn't overdo it. Public drunkeness would violate the dignity of his office as Royal Protector.

He reached the shuttle doors, and didn't have a way to open them. They looked too sturdy for his blade, so he shrugged and blasted them open with a gust of wind. They imploded into the shuttle and impacted the far side of the interior, and Corvo made his way inside to introduce himself to the slaves he had rescued from a grisly fate. He refrained from removing his mask, though, in case they talked to the guards, later, which was pretty much guaranteed in this situation.

He found the slaves in what appeared to be the equivalent of a ship's cargo hold, except with a multitude of large cages. He noticed that many of them were naked, except for the suited ones who reminded him of the Whalers. He did his best to avert his eyes, though they would not notice. He had been right to kill those batarian scum so violently. He saw tears on the bruised faces of both women and children, while the few men eyed him cautiously and with fear. He couldn't tell what the whaler-suited beings thought of him, though from their body language he assumed they were as frightened as the others. He began slicing into the locks on the cages, and they fell apart instantly.

"I Imagine that you are frightened, but fear not. I have disposed of the malefactors who imprisoned you, and I set you free of these barbaric chains. However, as I'm sure you've noted, we are not in the safest neighborhood in this city. If anyone knows how to pilot this craft, I would ask that they step forward and make themselves known." At first, nobody moved, evidently stunned by his words, but a 'human', apparently what the batarians referred to mankind as, stepped forward, along with one of the whalersuiters, who Corvo guessed was female, due to her skintight suit that left little to the imagination. The man asked "Y...you mean we're free? We can go? You're not with the slavers?"

Corvo frowned at that. He was most certainly not one of those craven fools. He had seened thugs from Bottle Street with more discipline than that lot. They panicked as soon as they saw a severed head, and didn't even try to fight back after he had killed the first one with a rat swarm. They acted like they had never even seen a Pandyssian Man-Eating Rat before. "No. I am..." He hesitated. Telling them his real name might be inadvisable if Gristol ever had diplomatic relations with this city of Nos Astra. While killing the slavers had certainly been just, he had the feeling it might not have been strictly legal, either. Giving them the name of Conrad Verner seemed an even worse idea. Perhaps..." I am the Masked Felon, protector of the innocent and bane of the corrupt and decadent. Only the guilty need fear my blade. He had finished cutting the locks open, and dramatically collapsed his sword for emphasis, and tucked it away into his now-bloodied coat. He wondered what he would do with it now, with no Callista or Lydia to wash it for him.

"Er...okay. My name's Ian Newstead. So...what should we do now?" The man asked. Before Corvo could answer, the whalersuited woman interjected. "Umm, hello. My name is Kaela'Raan nar Rayya. I...I'm pretty sure I can pilot this thing back up to the the upper levels of Nos Astra...but, what will we tell the Port Authority about...um, the batarians?"

Corvo thought about it for a moment and made up his mind. He doubted any of these people could lead them back here, and maybe he could use the situation to his advantage. "You go on without me. I have unfinished business here...Tell the authorities that you were rescued...by an Alliance N7 Elite, named Conrad Verner. Just trust me on it."

The two of them nodded, and so did some of the others who had joined them outside the cages. "Conrad Verner saved us, got it. We never saw you...and...thank you." Corvo still had one more thing on his mind, though. "Also, make sure that little girl makes it back to her family..." The nar Rayya and Newstead nodded in assent. "I'll definately make sure of it, you can count on that." Corvo nodded, and left. Normally, he might have tried to talk to the girl, who looked so much like Emily Kaldwin when she was just a small child. But he didn't want to frighten her, soaked head to toe in blood as he was.

He watched as a few minutes later the roof opened up on its own, and was amazed when blue fire seemed to come up from the bottom of the vehicle. It flew into the air and out of the hangar, far above, back to the upper levels of Nos Astra. Corvo hoped that whatever ship he found, he could bring one of those with him. Piero and Sokolov be damned, Corvo wanted to fly a Skyship.

* * *

**I noticed that in a lot of the reviews that people have been commenting on how screwed the batarians were, and of course they were right. The thing is, Corvo is used to dealing with what have to be some of the best trained professional soldiers in the world. Think about it, they don't panic when they see whole rooms full of mutilated corpses, and the soldiers will continue to fight Corvo to the death, long after their officers are slain. Also, people in the mass effect universe will likely have rather poor aim, at least compared to Corvo. He's accustomed to scoring headshots from great range with crossbows and wheel-lock pistols, whereas enemies in the Mass Effect universe find headshots difficult even with machine guns with limitless ammunition that fire microbullets at a fraction of the speed of light, and can use shields to buy time for aiming. Even discounting his bend time ability, Corvo is doubtlessly an excellent marksman. I also think Shepard will be in for quite a surprise when she makes it to Illium, and finds out that Conrad Verner has apparently single-handedly rescued dozens of kidnapees from batarian slavers, and next chapter, perhaps he'll help a Justicar take down the infamous Sisterhood of Eclipse.**


	6. Chapter 6 : Illium Alley Interlude

**Reviews :**

**Judarud: Thank you for pointing this out. I never noticed that takes away the indent for new paragraphs when uploading chapters. I've tried to correct it for this and future chapters.**

**Clockwork Insomniac : This is a very complex Corvo. On one hand, he is certainly not Clean Hands!Corvo, but he also does his best to keep to the shadows whenever possible. Unless he is specifically enraged he won't go on a killing spree like in the previous chapter. However, while he tries to be surgically precise, he won't hesitate to kill in order to fulfill his overall objective of returning to Dunwall and reuniting with Emily. Also, he doesn't necessarily recognize the batarian as a_ person_. In the mind of Corvo, and many other Victorian Whalepunk citizens, anything that isn't recognizably human (i.e., the Asari, who are incredibly similar), could be dismissed as a monster or demon. That's how Corvo currently thinks of Turians, Salarians, and Batarians. Of course, the few batarians he's met have done little to disabuse him of this theory. Rest assured, though, he'll be confronted over this when it becomes apparent to others.**

**Peanuckle : Corvo will definately meet Shepard, but that doesn't necessarily mean he'll be joining the Normandy crew...**

**Zazi The Beast : Corvo_ looks_ like a serial killer. He wears strange, raggedy clothes and a home-made skull mask. He uses knives and other inefficient weaponry to kill without hesitation. I could be describing a Batman Villain, here. Also, about kinetic barriers. Corvo's weapons are definately too slow to activate them, considering that they're calibrated for weapons that fire at a fraction of the speed of light. Also, they weren't designed with Corvo's weapons in mind. Normal Mass Effect guns fire bits of metal the size of a rice grain, whilst Corvo's shot and bolts are significantly larger, and would most likely fragment into shrapnel upon contact with a kinetic barrier, causing some nasty lacerations.**

**Guest (1/3/13) : Corvo will meet Thane, but I would imagine they don't have _that_ much in common. Corvo generally only kills for political or personal reasons, whilst Thane was more mercenary than that. Also, Corvo's a wizard.**

**Eipok : Corvo doesn't have any idea what an "alien" is. Remember, he hasn't grown up with sci-fi movies or television. The concept of life on other planets is completely alien to him, as is space travel. Given the overall level of xenophobia and lack of long-distance exploration or colonies, it's more than possible that Corvo and everyone in Dunwall still believes that the world is_ flat_. The only reason Corvo's mind hasn't already been completely_ blown_ is because his experiences with the Outsider and the Void have taught him to take strange, new things in stride.**

**Thanks for all of the reviews and continued feedback! I know that it's been awhile since the last update, and that I've made a few other stories. Rest assured, I will continue to update Dishonored Effect until I indicate otherwise. You can expect the next update to come considerably sooner than this one, though.**

* * *

There was one of those 'Asari' women on the videograph Corvo had finally figured out how to turn on. She appeared to be preparing to begin a speech, so he decided to listen in, and try to learn something useful.

"INN Live, coming to you with breaking news. This morning, at approximately 4:30 AM, IST, an M-2 Mockingbird Shuttle made an unscheduled dock at the Nos Astra Space Port. On board was a shocking discovery. Several indentured servants and Dantius Corporation employees claim to have been kidnapped and held against their will by a gang of slavers affiliated with the Blue Suns. Even more surprising was their second claim. Several of the wrongfully imprisoned employees claim that they were set up by Dantius Corporation CEO NassanaDantius, for discovery several other shady operations she allegedly has her fingers in. Dantius Corporation representatives declined to comment, but have stated that they intend to meet any official charges with stiff legal opposition, and have filed a defamation suit against the indentured servants and former employees.

Most shocking, however, was the discovery of the missing heir to the Rothschild family, one of the top shareholders on the Sirta Foundation board of directors. She also attests to the involvement of NassanaDantius in her disappearance five months ago from her family home on Earth. Reports from the Alliance indicate that her family is already en route to Illium, as well as representatives from the Alliance military. The fact that she disappeared at the heart of the Alliance but emerged in the Asari Republics will no doubt cause significant political fallout. Ambassador Udina had this to say about the situation"

The screen switched over to an image of an aging 'human' man, who had dark skin and receding grey hair. He looked furious, and started shouting harshly into his side of the videograph.

"This... is an _outrage!"_He brought his hand up to point his finger at the general direction of the camera, and swept his gaze over the direction of the videograph screen. "One of the leading families of the Human Systems Alliance has become another victim of the _council's_ negligence! First they let the batarians get away with sponsoring an attack on our colonies in the Skyllian Verge, and now members of the council species are outright _sponsoring_batarian slaver attacks against _Earth itself!"_

The man named Udina's face froze, and the screen seemed to shrink out into the upper left, revealing the asari woman again.

"The response from the Alliance is expected to be swift and brutal. The final shocking revelation is that the captives claim to have been saved by an N7 Marine who had to make an emergency landing on Illium, by the name of Conrad Verner. Alliance officials declined to comment on the identity of Verner, stating that it was a matter of national sec-"

The screen cut off as Corvo pressed the same button he had used to turn the videograph on, and he was satified that he had figured it out. It would seem that those slaves he had rescued had kept their word. Even more interesting was that the little girl that looked like Emily was apparently named 'Rothschild', and that she was an important person in the 'Human Systems Alliance', at least if the old man screaming on the videograph was anything to go by. Still, Corvo thought that the full name of the Alliance was odd. What did they mean by 'Systems'?

Presently, Corvo was sitting on a crate he had moved next to the videograph. He had found some food canisters earlier, and was eating the contents of a few of them. He had stowed his mask, for now. After he finished eating he would change back into his 'N7' disguise and check on the guard officer in the Station District. He had plenty of rations here, enough to last him for months, and there were plenty of water faucets around.

Corvo was glad that the slaves he had rescued had made it to the port in that flying machine of theirs. By now, he had finished his meal and was working his way into the armor he had stolen. He stowed his clothes and mask in a pack that he carried on his back. He had found the thing in a few lockers in a side room adjacent to the hangar. He had also made a utility belt of sorts from strips of wire and some fabric he had found laying around. He tied it around his armor's waistband and hung his crossbow, blade, grendades, springrazors, rewire tools, and wheel locks. The pistol he had recently aquired from the alleyway monster, he discovered, attached to the armor on it's own. It hung from his hip. It was attached well enough that it would not simply fall from it's place, but not so much that he could not yank it off at a moments notice. From some of the wire he found, Corvo was also able to make a necklace, that he used to hold his Bone Charms.

Corvo closed the doors on his way out of the hangar. He barred them with some chains he scavenged from the hangar the night before, and took to the rooftops of the undercity with blink. Getting all the way back to the nearest of those air-carts he had ridden to the station district would take awhile.

* * *

Detective Anaya was having some serious problems today. She had been waiting for the Justicar to leave before she called in that N7 spook to do a favor for her, but now she may not have a choice. PitneFor's lawyers had the department on the ropes, and he was about to get cleared to leave Illium. Not only that, but her superiors had just sent orders, straight from the Governess. She was to haul in Justicar Samara before she caused an incident. Once she heard of PitneFor's gambit to escape from justice, there'd be no stopping her from taking him out at the behest of her Code. For was a major Volus businessman, so killing him could cause problems with both the Volus Protectorate _and _the Turian Hierarchy.

Anaya had no illusions of her ability to carry out those orders on her own. She was no match for a Justicar. Any fight between her and Justicar Samara would likely end with her having a few unpleasant warp wounds...or thrown off the streets past the guard rails, with an 8-mile drop. But...maybe there was a way she could survive this. That N7 guy had promised to help her out in exchange for access to the astrological tracking charts they had here at the station. Why he wanted them was beyond her, but this could be useful. An N7 marine would have a much better chance against a Justicar than she would, and from the news reports, there was no question that Verner was legit. She had told him to lay low and take some time off while she waited for the Justicar to leave, so what does he do? He busts a secret Blue Suns slavery ring in cahoots with NassanaDantius, and rescues the missing heiress to the Sirta Foundation. Indentured servitude may have been legal on Illium, but smuggling them off-world as slaves? A big no-no. Busting them was a major blow for the Alliance, and Verner just did it in his spare time. She wondered why he didn't just go on the shuttle to the space-port with him, but then she facepalmed. Of course he wouldn't want to get in front of the cameras. He was N7, so he might be used for infiltrating criminal organizations on occasion. Not much good if he has his face all over the news as an Alliance soldier.

Anaya heard the door open at the stations main lobby. She checked it out, only to see the man she had just been thinking about. He was impossible to miss, with his weird equipment and uncharacteristically long hair.

"Verner! Over here!" She called out to him.

"Ah, guardswoman. I came to see if you were ready for me to engage those scoundrels you mentioned the other day." He smiled pleasantly enough. Anaya observed that you would never think him to be a trained killer, but his actions spoke louder than his mannerisms.

"As a matter of fact, I may need your assistance with something else." She motioned him over to her office space. He followed her, with a raised eyebrow.

She leaned against the wall, and crossed her arms. Verner seemed intrigued, so she decided to just spit it out. "It's that Justicar I mentioned the other day. See, my superior's have ordered me to haul her in. Problem is, I would rather keep on living. Justicars are most fearsome warriors there are, at least among asari. So, I was thinking that you could help me arrest her. By now, she's already handled the gang I wanted you to deal with."

Verner seemed to ponder this for a moment, thoughtfully holding his chin. After a moment, he nodded to her. "Yes, I think I can handle that easily enough. But I think it would be better if I did this alone."

Anaya didn't know what to say about that. She had just wanted him to tag along with her, to provide some much needed muscle. She really didn't want to have to fight a Justicar, and Verner had certainly proven his skills by dealing with the slavers down in the slums. But letting an unsupervised N7 handle the situation by himself could get ugly. "Are you sure about that? I mean...no offense, but this is really important, and we really need her alive and in one piece."

Verner smiled disarmingly at her, and made a placating gesture with his hands. "Of course. I'll make sure to incapacitate her without causing any permanent harm. I promise that I'll simply arrest her."

Anaya raised her eyebrow suspiciously, but decided to give Verner the benefit of the doubt. From what the news had released about the the incident in the slums, Verner had handled the situation like a pro. Not a single dead civillian on his hands. She supposed that he knew what he was doing. "Okay, but make absolutely certain that you don't start a firefight in the middle of the street or anything. We really can't afford an incident with all of this media coverage."

Verner seemed confused again, for some reason, but quickly recovered. What really weirded Anaya out was when he _bowed_ of all things, like some sort of stage performer or musician. "Very well, then. I'll be off. Now, where can I find the Justicar?"

Anaya found his mannerisms odd, but he seemed sincere with them. She shrugged it off as some kind of personal quirk he had been allowed to keep due to his obvious proficiency as a soldier. "Down the alleyway next to the station. Some of my officers are stationed right outside. They'll open the door for you."

Verner bowed once again, and made his exit. He walked from the office with an acrobats grace that Anaya had seen asari commandoes carry themselves with. Maybe the situation wasn't hopeless after all, if Verner was as good as he seemed.

* * *

Corvo had found the alley Anaya had pointed out. He saluted the guardswomen stationed outside, and they reciprocated the gesture before waving him through. The door opened automatically, as Corvo had noted doors were wont to do in Nos Astra. It also closed behind him. Corvo surveyed the area he found himself in, and saw that it was much the same as the one he had just left. Same metallic walls and illuminated glass, without a candle in sight. It was less an alleyway and more a structure in itself, with ceiling and all. It was a hallway with plenty of room to maneuver, to his relief.

As he made his way further into the "Alley" as the Guardswoman had described it, he noticed that there was plenty of waist-level cover for him to hide behind, much like the other buildings he had been in. Perhaps it was an aesthetic unique to Nos Astra's culture. It suited his purposed well enough, anyways. A few blinks here and there and he was practically invisible to these people.

Soon enough, he encountered resistance. They had yet to notice him, but he saw a few armed individuals skulking about the "Alley". He could only assume that these were the felons that the Justicar was supposedly disposing of. And to an extent, she had. Corvo had noted a corpse or two here and there. But she was far from thorough. In this hallway alone, there were three of the criminals hiding behind crates or the like in some of the adjacent rooms. They had huge windows that lacked glass, or a barrier of any kind, that allowed easy access into them without ever getting near the doors.

The first criminal was hiding beneath a desk, with an odd device that resembled one of the typewriters he had seen in the Abbey of the Everyman during his adventure there. Or perhaps some kind of advanced videograph. It could have been a similar device to the infernal contraption that summoned the air-train Corvo was forced to use to commute to the station district from his hideout in the undercity.

Whatever the case, the criminals whimpering gave him away, even without the poor choice in hiding place. Corvo was crouched on the other side of the hole in the wall that resembled an enormous window. He then activated his Dark Vision, and got a more precise view of his targets. They stood out of the brownish shadows in golden-yellow. He could see that the criminal on the other side of the wall had his back to it, probably trying to minimize his blind spots. _The fool_, Corvo thought. He looked around for a moment, and saw with his Dark Vision that none of the criminals were actually facing the hallway, instead cowering in their hiding places, hoping to remain unnoticed. He stood up, and they were none the wiser.

He loomed over his prey, and drew his blade. By the time the cowering felon noticed the shadow over him, Corvo's left hand already grasped over his mouth. It was a human, like himself. Albeit a poorly trained one, even compared to the Dunwall City Watch. With a swift stab, Corvo buried his blade into his victim's neck, and withdrew his blade just as quickly. The blood spurted out like a fountain, and splashed all over the previously pristine office space. He waited until the gurgling stopped before he moved his hand from the man's mouth, and made certain he was dead. The man's armor had been as useful as a whaling trawler in the middle of the Pandyssian Desert. It left the neck area completely open, as Corvo noted that most armor seemed to, both here and in Dunwall.

Corvo's Dark Vision revealed the remaining ne'er do wells had yet to detect his presence, or the death of their comrade. The second criminal was a strange creature that Corvo had seen roaming the walkways amongst the myriad of monsters Nos Astra allowed to fill it's streets. It was some kind of reptile, it seemed. It had huge, black dome-eyes, like a frog. It's other prominent features were a somewhat sunken chest and two vestigial horns upon its head. It's breathing was frantic, and it shivered as if it was the first snow of the Month of Frost. Corvo dispatched the curious frog-eyed creature just as easily as the human, with a quick slash of his blade to the thing's soft throat when he caught it unawares hiding behind a few crates. He had simply blinked above him silently and dropped down, and then he was upon the thing.

The final criminal in hiding was behind a large collection of crates, that reached all the way to the ceiling. Unfortunately, this meant that there would be no blinking above her. She was another one of those blue-skinned women that seemed to be the majority in Nos Astra. Normally, Corvo would show some restraint with women, but his information was reliable. Everyone in here who was not the "Justicar" was a criminal, possibly with murderers among them. He doubted that this cowering women, doing her best to go unnoticed, was the Justicar. She seemed more akin to a rabbit who had heard the howlings of nearby wolfhounds.

"Please…goddess, don't let her find me." She whispered. Too softly to hear, usually. But the corridors were completely silent, and Corvo never made any noise in the first place. It would appear that the city of Nos Astra did not subscribe to the Abbey of the Everyman's beliefs that any celestial deity that took interest in the dealings of mankind was not to be trusted.

_She should be praying to the Outsider_, Corvo thought. He would be far more likely to lend a helping hand than any other being that men prayed to. Still, he would have to be careful here. There were none of the huge window-like holes in the wall that he could use to circumvent the crates, and her back was to the wall. He couldn't go over them, so it looked like his only recourse was the direct approach, straight into her line of sight…

In these kinds of situations, Corvo would usually just throw something to attract his mark's attention, and get them to investigate the sound while he maneuvered himself into a better position. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be any wine bottles or glass cups around. A whale oil canister would have been ideal, here, but he had yet to see any of them in Nos Astra. Perhaps they had a more efficient method of storing whale oil. He supposed it would make more sense than storing them in canisters that exploded if you threw them or dropped them.

Corvo then had an idea. The woman wouldn't be able to detect him if he bent time as he prepared to assassinate her. He concentrated for a moment, and reached out with his mind into the Void. The Mark of the Outsider glowed in an ethereal light, and flashed. Corvo felt his spirits dampen significantly, his mental capacities impaired as if he had drunken a full bottle of Tyvian Vodka. He felt the ache behind his eyes, knowing that he had expended a good portion of his willpower. He quickly suppressed the dizzy sensation that came with use of the Outsider's power, and took note of the gray world around him. A haze filled the room, as if the air itself had stood still. Corvo took a deep breath, and sprinted into criminal's hiding spot.

He couldn't keep time bent for long around him before whatever forces governed the universe corrected his sabotage of the natural laws. He had just managed to maneuver himself behind the asari before the frozen world melted away into color and motion once again. Corvo took note of her trembling and how she kept a shaky grip on her weapon. It looked like an enormous, boxy pistol that included a guard for all four of the wielder's fingers. It would appear that he was about to procure a new addition to his arsenal.

With that in mind, he brought his blade to bear and aimed for the woman's heart. With a single, swift stab, his blade pierced into her back and struck where a human's heart would have been. He had no idea if the same held true for asari, but they seemed similar enough to his kind aside from the lack of hair. Apparently, he was right, as the woman let out a soft cry that ended abruptly as soon as the air left her lungs, which no longer had the function of blood to pump the oxygen through her veins. The asari blood, Corvo noted, was of a peculiar color, and it pooled on the floor as Corvo let the woman's corpse fall from it's crouched position.

Corvo made certain to stow the woman's strange pistol into his coat, to experiment with later. He wouldn't use it during this excursion if he could help it. It was never a good idea to use untested weaponry during matters of life or death. He had already tried the pistol he had procured from the four-eyed monstrosity, and found that it functioned much like his own, but with a higher rate of fire. He wasn't certain what type of ammunition it used, and fiddling with it just confused him. He resolved to use his new equipment only as a last resort.

With the hallway cleared of…"guards", he stood upright. He was confident that he could handle anything that _these_ amateurs could throw at him. For all of their armor and advanced weaponry, they're discipline made the damned Bottle Street Gang look like professionals. Even the gangsters of Dunwall's lowest rungs would at least put up a fight and try to work together. These people were barely even cohesive enough to wear the same uniform. All it took was the Justicar to kill a few of them and then they started hiding like whipped dogs. Even the ordinary city watchmen in Dunwall wouldn't do that, and Corvo was considerably more thorough than this Justicar had been.

He continued through the halls and the open doorways, and came to a windowed walkway. It had an astounding view of the city beneath him, and Corvo could barely believe what he was seeing. Just the side of Nos Astra that he could see from the relatively low vantage of this station district sideway was enormous. The city sprawled out for what must have been miles. He could only just see the coast from here, with water glistening in the sunset. Towers and structures that dwarfed Kaldwin's Bridge seemed to be commonplace here. From what he understood, maintenance on the superstructure alone cost a sizable portion of the annual budget, which had caused it to fall into disrepair during the plague. Corvo couldn't imagine such wealth that Nos Astra could afford to construct and maintain _dozens_ of such creations. That, along with all of their technological power. Perhaps he should consider opening diplomatic talks with their leadership. A city of such power would certainly be a worthy ally for Dunwall.

Stunned as he was by the breathtaking view, he was startled when he heard the sound of footfalls coming up on his left. Quickly shaking off his thoughts on the city, he returned to matters at hand. His Dark Vision gave him a view of the encroaching assailants that were heading his way, already running like they had spotted him. He had to act fast if he wanted to avoid a direct confrontation. It never paid off to take undue risks. From what he had seen of their equipment, a single mistake could be lethal.

Thinking quickly, he took cover behind a corner he had rounded to get into the sideway from the hall where he had killed the three thugs. Crouching down, he peeked from the corner.

It would appear that he had hidden himself just in time, as two more of the armored goons had bolted into the hallway, and checking to see if the coast was clear, by the looks of it. Both wore strange looking helmets, so Corvo couldn't tell whether they were men like himself, or more of the four-eyed beasts. He simply observed for now. While he could tell that they were still properly wary, they took a moment to rest. One leaned against the wall, and the other put down his weapon and held his knees, breathing heavily as if he had been running for some time.

"We…We need to get out of here. That Justicar is tearing things up down there, man. I don't…want to die here…" The thug said between breaths. Corvo frowned. He could easily kill the two of them with either his wheel lock, crossbow, or newly procured pistol if it wasn't for those damned helmets. He'd have to wait until they got closer together to send them to the void with his magic. "Hey, Goss, I'm picking something up on heat sensors!" Sensors? But, now they were looking in his direction… "It's coming from over there, I think we've got a hostile!" The man on the left said. Whatever had happened just now had given away his location. He would have to be more careful in the future, at least around similarly equipped foes.

"Come on out here, with your arms where I can see 'em. No sudden moves!" Shouted the thug on the left. Both were threateningly brandishing their firearms in his direction near the wall. Corvo cursed silently. Now that they were aware of his presence, he'd have to get rid of them quickly before they alerted their fellows. It looks like he didn't have a choice. He was too spiritually winded to risk another bending of time, at least without possibly depleting himself. A dangerous prospect with so few remaining Remedies in his pack.

But he did have a few more tricks up his sleeve yet. He was loathe to use any more of his nonrenewable ammunition, but he was unwilling to depend on his newly acquired weapons in such a risky situation. He was outnumbered, and they had a superior understanding of the equipment. Such a situation should be avoided if he could help it.

With that in mind he loaded his incendiary bolts into his trusty automatic crossbow. His Dark Vision revealed the positioning of the men slowly inching forward, guns never leaving their aim at his head. Whatever these "Sensors" were, they seemed to be akin to Dark Vision in function. Perhaps he could get some himself in order to preserve his spirits. Waiting until they were almost upon him, Corvo sprung into action and pounced. He fired his crossbow at the crook on the right, and the villain screamed as the chemicals inside burst into flames upon contact with the air. He immediately dropped his weapon and ran all over the place, knocking over his partner in the process. "Oof!"

The thug on the left had dropped his weapon as well, when his combusting ally crashed into him . Seeing an opportune moment, Corvo slashed down with his sword and executed the immobile felon, who had been weighed down by his writhing and screaming friend. His head fell to the floor and blood soon gushed out of the stump of his. He briefly noted that he had been a human being, with blood of crimson red. He quickly put the other criminal out of his misery as well, with a quick slice to the throat. His blade was sharp enough to rip right through the leather-like material that sealed his helm with his armor.

Not so much blood came gushing out this time, but at least he had stopped struggling. Corvo let the bodies fall to the floor and stood straight up once more. He fell out of his combat stance and proceeded down the hallway. His Dark Vision would warm him with time to spare if any more enemies came about. These two had been much more skilled than the others he had encountered. This must mean that he was approaching the gang's leadership. From the conversation between the two crooks he had surmised that the Justicar was still engaging the enemy. That should make his job a great deal easier.

He made his way down the hall and did his best to avoid getting lost in the breathtaking view just outside the window. The doors opened by themselves in front of him, causing him to jump back and startle. It would take some time for him to get used to _that_. The sight that greeted him on the other side was far from pleasant, as he saw that bodies of similarly dressed thugs. Some had broken necks, while others sported bullet holes. Broken bones and scattered limbs littered the floor, and tables had been over and used as cover, facing the door. Anything that hadn't been bolted down was piled up as makeshift cover. Still, it had been useless. Everyone in the room was dead, as his Dark Vision detected no signs of life.

This Justicar was clearly a force to be reckoned with. He could see why the asari guardswoman had not relished the prospect of her superiors ordering her to arrest the woman. Even Corvo was impressed by such a show of force. It was clear that stealth was not the factor here. The occupants of this room were well-armed and well-trained, and knew that she was coming and where from. And yet they were slaughtered like animals. The Justicar must be possessed of some truly terrifying power in order to use raw force to barge into this fortified position from the front.

Just beyond the fortifications there was one of the self-opening doorways into another room. He heard strange noised from inside. What sounded like dozens of guns going off in succession, and strange noises that reminded him of his wind magic. He tread carefully towards the door, and steeled himself. The Justicar was in the next room, and from the look of this carnage, he was in serious danger for perhaps the first time since he came here. But he had to get those charts, and that meant dealing with the Justicar, one way or another.


	7. Chapter 7 : Target - The Justicar

Blood splattered the ground beneath her feet. Bodies lay broken and strewn about the room, and wreckage was omnipresent in every direction. Debris both synthetic and organic dirtied the floor, just as the stains of blood dirtied her hands.

Samara silently pronounced a quick prayer for the dead. Too many had needlessly been sent to the goddess today, if only for their own foolishness. A small part of her mind told her that they had earned their fate by denying her the information she required, and of course for their other offences. Petty crime was still crime, and she was a Justicar. Sworn to end all injustices as she came across them. Her liberal use of biotics upon the uncooperative delinquents had left her somewhat drained, so she took a moment to rest and reflect upon her recent actions.

She had been tracking her daughter here, for years before. Now, when she finally tracks her down to a single city on Illium, she disappears like a ghost caught by a single ray of light. She had frantically searched for the lost lead, of course, but they all yielded similar results to this excursion. The galaxy had been rid of a few more undesirables, but she was no closer to her mark.

She looked at her hands. Callused and bruised, coated in a thin layer of drying blood. She could still smell the iron in the air. Centuries of bloodshed and battle had hardened her heart, but some days she grew weary of the constant violence. But she could not rest, not yet. It was denied her until she accomplished her most important and personal mission. She had brought Morinth into this world, and that meant it was _her_ responsibility to grant justice to all of Morinth's victims.

Samara brought herself up from the piece of ruined metal she had been resting on, and stood slowly. She turned to go…but… she sensed something. She had been a Justicar for longer than many asari would ever live to be. Centuries worth of experience had honed her senses to a razor's edge. Not even a shadow could slip beneath her notice.

There it was again. A slight disturbance in the air, a shift in the current. Perhaps even a sound so miniscule that she only detected it subconsciously.

She was not alone.

Whoever was skulking around in this room was good. She knew better than to look around like a startled animal. Doing so would merely alert her assailant that they had been detected. No. Instead, she closed her eyes, and opened her other senses to their fullest heights. Her instincts told her not to let down her guard with _this_ one, if she wished to keep her life. She could hear it clearly now. Soft, almost silent footfalls. On such floors strewn with ruin and debris, it was an accomplishment of a trained sneak. Her mind immediately thought of a single word, "_Assassin_".

Her mind was on a knife's edge, now. It was certainly not above Morinth's capacity to send a hitman after her in her desperation, particularly with Samara so close on her trail. But this was good news. If he had been personally hired, he may have the information she sought. If not…then the world would be quit of one who would only bring it harm.

"Reveal yourself" She commanded "And you will not be harmed…" Unless they made any sudden or undue movements. There was no response in any case. Whoever the sneak was, they were clearly masters of evasion. The room was unsuited for hiding, but she was in the center of it and there was plenty of wreckage to hide in. Broken crates, ruined terminals, and a few overturned tables. She slowly made rounds through the room, a search and destroy tactic.

As she turned the corner of a busted open crate of ammunition, her instincts told her that danger was imminent. They soon proved themselves to be correct. She had no idea how they accomplished such a feat, but her assailant had somehow managed to position themselves behind her without her knowledge, and now she was paying for it. Strong arms wrapped around her neck to cut off her air. If something was not done, she would doubtlessly black out and be at the mercy of whomever hired her attacker.

The synapses in her brain entered a frenzied state and the element zero nodes fired up as she charged her considerable biotic talents into her limbs. From behind, she used her newfound power to bodily flip the assassin over her shoulders as her arms reached behind her to grab hold of them. With the brunt of the force she slammed him into the hard metallic surface of the floor, with enough force to crush armor and shatter bones.

Much to her surprise, he was not down for long. He may have been stunned for a moment, but before she could prepare a killing stroke he seemed to _vanish_ from the ground and disappear from sight. From what little she could see of him, the assassin had been dressed in strange, worn clothing. He wore a dirty coat that was torn in several places over some sort of antiquated military uniform, complete with combat boots. What had immediately caught her eye had been the mask. He had been wearing some sort of metallic mask, designed to resemble a human or asari skull. It would certainly be intimidating to a less trained mind…but it also made it impossible to determine his identity. She knew that he was a human male from the displayed raw strength and the coloration of his bared hands. Perhaps she could later bring in the assistance of the local constabulary to scan the area for fingerprint patterns.

She was broken from her brief musings on her assailant when she felt a sharp stinging sensation at the base of her neck. Ignoring the pain, she quickly removed the culprit only to find a small dart with an empty glass syringe. Poison? But she felt her eyes get heavy, and found it difficult to remain standing. She tried shaking it off, but she felt a burning feeling in the pit of her stomach and began to feel feverish. Her vision became grainy as she struggled to reopen her eyes after each blink. Finally, her legs gave way and she fell to the floor, her last conscious sight that of a sideways floorspace and the approaching boots of the assassin.

* * *

That…had been difficult. Corvo massaged his probably fractured ribs beneath his thick clothing and waited a moment to make sure the woman was truly out. He hadn't expected a _woman_ to be able _to lift him into the air and throw him onto the ground_ during a _chokehold_… He supposed that this unnatural strength would explain why so many of the asari were utilized as guards around Nos Astra. He was silently thankful that this was the first time he had attempted to engage in a contest of brute strength with one. Obviously a poor idea, in hindsight, but at least he had survived to learn his lesson. She may have thwarted his chokehold but she went down well enough after a single sleep dart.

Perhaps too well, now that he saw her. She appeared to be in pain, even unconsciously. He felt her forehead and was surprised to discover that she was burning up in a fever. _That_ certainly wasn't good. Anaya had been _very_ clear that the Justicar was not to be killed. Corvo couldn't recall any of the guards in Dunwall reacting in such a way to Pietro's sleep darts, but perhaps the asari somehow had greater strength at the cost of weaker constitution. Corvo honestly had no idea of such things as biology. He was learned well enough, but still no natural philosopher.

Corvo decided that the best course of action to take at this point would be to simply have Anaya have a look at her. She would know better than him how to treat a sick asari, or know who to contact that would. So he picked her up and slung her unconscious form over his shoulder and made his way back to the station. He would stop to pick up his 'Conrad Verner' N7 disguise on his way out. He was finally making progress on his return home to his country and empress.

Anaya truly hoped that Verner pulled through for her. While she realized that he had proven to be both competent and resourceful in his past actions against that gang of batarians down in the slums, an asari Justicar was another game entirely. She had just gotten off a call from Magistrate Hatella, which ended with a heated warning. If she wanted to keep her desk, she would have to ensure that the Justicar was dealt with within the day. Apparently the people upstairs had gotten nervous enough to authorize a full detainment of the Justicar until her order could be contacted for a liaison with the Republican Office of Domestic Affairs. If Verner was successful, the problem was solved and she could breathe easily…If not, She had a dead N7 Marine on her hands and yet another incident with the alliance in a single week. Illium was already on thin-ice with it's alliance-based clients after what the media was calling "The Rothschild Incident". A friend of hers down in Traffic had told her a rumor that Dantius had already lost all of it's contracts with Sirta Foundation.

Fortunately, it seemed as though her fears were completely unfounded. The station had grown silent as quite a few of the other officers turned to the entrance with awe and surprise plastered on their faces. The automatic doors _hissed_ open, and in came a man in N7 armor with the Justicar's unconscious body slung over his shoulder. He politely brushed past a few of the junior officers who had been too shocked to move out of his way as he deposited the Justicar in one of the chairs in Anaya's semi-open office.

"Sorry about that. Perhaps my handling was too rough?" he half-asked the stupefied officer. Anaya couldn't believe what she was seeing. Here was some human marine, not even a century old and taking down a Justicar without even taking a scratch.

On the other hand, the Justicar herself was looking worse for wear. even in her unconscious state, she was breathing heavily and seemed to have broken into a sweat as well. "Is she going to be okay...?" asked Anaya. While the last thing she needed was for the N7 to die, a dead Justicar could bring about potentially worse repercussions. One Justicar was containable, but a whole group of them would come swooping down on Illium if it was discovered that an _alien_ murderer one of their order...

"She should be..." Answered Verner, scratching his head. He looked confused for some reason, as he eyed the Justicar thoughtfully. "I shot her with a sleep dart, but they don't usually cause reactions like this in their victims..."

Anaya didn't like the sound of that at all. "Maybe she's having an allergic reaction?" she guessed. It could be anything. Perhaps the dart had some sort of chemical that was harmless to humans but had negative affects in asari? "What are the ingredients to the tranquilizer agent?" He had been looking confused, before, mouthing 'allergic', as if testing a new word on his tongue. Anaya seriously hoped that her faith in the man had not been misplaced. At her question, he put his hand on his chin for a moment, and then nodded.

"An associate of mine usually makes them, though I believe he said something of distilled River-krust juice, Nightshade, and Bitterspring, and crushed hagfish fang. " Anaya could only sigh at that. She had heard that some of the alliance marines were...eccentric, and the N7s elite status granted that branch in particular extra leeway for indulgence. It would seem those rumors were not unfounded.

She felt the Justicars forehead, and was not pleased to find out that she sported a severe fever. She would definately have to call the medic.

"Well, Verner, a deal's a deal, I'll tell Breilya to download the charts you're looking for into your Omni-To-"

"Hey, is this the police station...? I could really use some help!" Just as she was about to send Breilya a message to give Verner whatever information he needed, A half-naked human came stumbling in to the station at the main entrance. Officer Falyana go up from her desk near the hallway and tried to stonewall him.

"Can I...help you, sir?" She asked with a raised eyebrow and one hand on her pistol.

"Oh, thank goodness!" The man said with what he probably thought was a charming smile and an annoying, fake salesman-y voice. "See, I was in the middle of investigating this red-sand smuggling operation for the Alliance, and..."

Falyana stopped him at that as Anaya looked on in interest at this. It wasn't every day some crazy homeless person came bursting into the station _of their own accord_. She didn't notice Verner narrow his eyes at the new arrival "Wait, you were investigating a smuggling op on Illium...for the Alliance? Something seems off about that...like you not having any jurisdiction here." The man seemed lost for a moment, but regained his composure quickly. "Yeah, see, it was involved with…well, I just…look. I'm not 'officially' with the alliance. But I'm doing my best to help out against crime on Illium. I even brought my replica N7 armor I had made. I was trained by Commander Shepard y'know."

It looked like Falyana could barely resist the urge to laugh, as Anaya herself rolled her eyes. Still, something bothered her about what the man said. "So if you brought along replica N7 armor, why are you walking in here half-naked?" Anaya asked as she approached the buffoon.

"It was stolen!" The man yelled out. "I don't know who it was that did it…" he admitted, contemplating the floor. "But whoever they are…" He pointed his finger into the air and gazed ahead determinedly. "They'll regret the day they stole from Conrad Verner! I was trained by Commander Shepard y'know."

What the hell? Anaya thought. She turned around, but the N7 purporting himself to be Conrad Verner was nowhere to be found.

* * *

That had been close. Corvo hadn't counted on the man finding his way to the guard station so quickly after he left him in that dumpster, but he supposed that it was somewhat inevitable. As he skulked through some of the back alleys a few blocks from the station, he tried to formulate the next best course of action. Obviously that cover was blown, and he could probably forget about receiving the charts he needed to get home to Gristol. After all, he had impersonated a somewhat high ranking military officer, a serious offence in any civilized nation.

Now he would have to find some other way of finding his way home. Shame, too, as he went through all the work involved in subduing that "Justicar" woman for Officer Anaya. Corvo had to admit, she was a deadly opponent for a woman. Not quite on the level that Daud had been on, of course, but she probably could've handled herself well against a few of his assassin lackeys. He hoped that his sleep darts had not caused her any permanent damage. Potions and poultices could cause serious problems when misused, he knew. Perhaps it was a case of something that is harmless to humans could prove harmful to animals or other creatures. Whatever the case, Corvo had never seen the darts produce that same reaction in any human victims. Granted, he never really stuck around to find out.

Corvo eventually made his way back to his makeshift hideout in the undercity beneath the main towers and highways. He surveyed the area and did a few sweeps to ensure that no uninvited guests had secreted themselves away in the building. Finding his home for the time being clean of rats, he turned his attention to a little project he had been working on over the last few days.

It was a makeshift workstation of sorts. He had set up a simple table out of some crates and put a tarp over them, then laid out simple tools he had found in a different crate over it. Some tools had been alien to him, though, which he refrained from toying with. It wouldn't do to make it back to Dunwall minus important fingers, after all.

He had already utilized some of his rudimentary crafting knowledge to replenish his supply of crossbow bolts and even some more shot for his wheel-lock. They weren't anything fancy like Pietro's exploshive bullets, but he was familiar enough with the size and weight of the Standard Issue Army Bullets employed by Her Majesty's troops to create some passable imitations. They were doubtlessly less effective than the genuine article factory models, but the little iron balls were the best he could do, and he had tested them to ensure they fired well enough from his pistol without too many misfires.

The crossbow bolts were easier to produce. Daud's men had also hand-made their own bolts, being as the few factories that made them had long since closed what with the rat plague. They were simple to make, being really only a pointy piece of metal. Corvo had managed to convert the boiler into a makeshift forge for his metalworkings, and simply used a piece of solid metal he had found lying around the hanger as an anvil. He had actually found a functional hammer as well, although it was made of some strange white material and weighed considerably less than any other hammer he had used. Still, he found it to be quite resilient enough for his purposes and had set to work on replenishing his supplies.

In the months between the creation of a cure for the rat plague and his spiriting away to this mysterious place by the outsider for unknown purposes, Corvo had taken up craftsmanship as a new skill to hone. He realized that with Pietro busy with his new duties at the Academy, he probably didn't have the time to upgrade or resupply Corvo's many gadgets and weapons. Corvo had grown accustomed to the crossbow, though, and decided to learn his way around the workshop. He found himself with relatively a lot of free time after he killed the majority of the power players in the conspiracy against Emily, so it made perfect sense to become less dependant on Pietro to maintain his gear. He was all too aware of how helpless he would be in a situation where ammunition was scarce, such as during the rat plague, without the eccentric genius' assistance.

After working for a little while, he moved on to his hiding place underneath the launch pad. It was hidden from view, so he felt safe sleeping there. For now, he would rest, and hopefully dream of his life in Dunwall. Or perhaps the Outsider would offer his assistance. He shrugged, and yawned as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**Target Spared**


	8. Chapter 8 : The Heart of the Matter

**A/N: Sorry about the long wait for the update. I'll probably be updating Simulacrum of Zero, The Dragonborn Hero, and Ultimate Arachnos later this week. I might get around to updating Rosario Witcher and another DE chapter as well, time permitting.**

**REVISION : After reading the review by Clockworkinsomniac, I decided to rehash the conflict between Udina and the Council a bit. This way makes more sense, I think, and I'd like to thank Clockworkinsomniac for their feedback. I didn't really give much thought to element zero before, but I knew it was necessary for biotics and was a resource used by ships. Beyond that I didn't pay much attention to the technical aspects of it, so after reading the review and researching the lore on the wiki a bit, I decided to change the conflict to a more plausible argument. **

**In my defense, while element zero is less vital to the alliance than I previously believed, there are reasons why It would still be important to be able to trade with the council for it. For one thing, the alliance is a 'legitimate' government, which means they would probably be reluctant to engage in trade with less savory sources of element zero such as Aria or the Terminus Systems, and corporate mining colonies would undoubtedly gouge the prices on it should such an embargo with the other council races occur. The Systems Alliance would have to pony up the extra dough to the corporations in order to save face rather than deal with the Terminus, and by extension Aria. Otherwise, any overt trade between Aria or other unrecognized and probably hostile Terminus governments would not only be similarly gouging in most likelihood, but would be seen as collaborating with criminals by the alliance people. It would be like America, during the cold war, running out of oil and deciding to buy from the Soviet Union for billions of dollars, rather than, say, Britain, or South America. I somehow doubt whoever was president during such an affair would ever be re-elected for anything. As for the fleet humanity was running before they ever met the aliens, I would imagine that it has expanded greatly since then, particularly in the wake of the "geth" invasion, plus the requisition for new ships to replace those lost by the fifth fleet to save the Destiny Ascension from Sovereign (Valern, Sparatus, and Tevos are still alive.) Still, I acknowledge that I was mistaken about the purpose of Element Zero pertaining to shipbuilding, and have implemented changes reflecting that. Reviews let me know where I might have messed up, and critical feedback is especially welcome. Thank You.**

* * *

Ambassador Donnel Udina was not having a very pleasant Monday morning. The weekend proceeding it had hardly been ideal either, of course, to put things mildly. Executives screaming at him, making backroom deals with minor politicians like mayors and the like in order to keep damage to a minimum- his life had been hectic to say the least. And it was all because of some unbelievably ambitious batarian plot to _kidnap_ the heir to one of the most influential families in the Alliance economy.

It had all started a few months back. Sirta Foundation CEO and primary stockholder Eustace Rothschild had come home one day to find that his Canadian estate had been broken into. Security personnel dead, wife and child nowhere to be seen. It was a huge incident, and the Alliance had organized a manhunt that had still been ongoing up until this weekend. Obviously the matter was of grave importance to the Alliance as a whole- military interests in particular. The Sirta Foundation was a major contractor for the military, and whoever kidnapped the CEO's family had issued no demands for ransom.

That said, the search had been a more or less fruitless endeavor. Within three days of the incident, thousands of law enforcement officers and trained soldiers alike had scrambled around Earth, looking for the perpetrators. Virtually all traffic to and from the surface had ceased, even going so far as to set up a checkpoint around the Charon Relay. It was all for naught, though, as four months later the two Rothschilds were still missing.

Now, one of them turns up on Illium of all places, and all hell breaks loose. According to the official reports, Eleana Rothschild had been found with a group of various aliens onboard a cargo shuttle docking at Nos Astra. According to them, they had escaped from a _batarian slaving ring operating out of Nos Astra. _To say that this was a political shit-storm for both the Alliance and the republics would be a gross understatement. President Clancy had informed Udina that he was to have a very uncomfortable conversation with the Council at some point today, but he was honestly too upset himself over this turn of events to truly relish being able to put them on the spot after this.

Most humans had been outraged by the incident. Relations with the batarians had always been poor at best, and pirates still regularly preyed on human independent colonies in the terminus systems. However, this new affair was another matter altogether. Two wealthy Alliance citizens had been abducted from their home on Earth, their staff butchered, and smuggled out of system all the way to an asari world where they were presumably going to be processed on either their 'indentured servant' markets or moved on to a batarian controlled system. Udina shuddered at the prospect of the latter occurrence. He had it on good authority that human captives were always abused the worst by the batarian scum, ever since the Skyllian Blitz.

But this operation was far too well-organized and pulled off for some random batarian pirates to pull off on their own. Udina and President Clancy were far from the only ones who recognized that fact. The common people were enflamed by the recent bout of demagoguery that Rothschild had been spouting over some of the media networks he had a controlling interest in. Just yesterday the evening news had been speculating on who the batarians had been working with; the hegemony, the asari, or even the spectres? If it were ever to be discovered the latter was true…things could get messy.

The Alliance had never really approved of foreign agents having license to operate freely in their space, not subject to their laws and with a perpetual gag-order on all of their activities. It was honestly easy to see where they were coming from, given this incident. Many elements of the Alliance will almost certainly call for stricter controls on the alien presence on human worlds, after this incident. Udina certainly agreed with the principal, but Rothschild was mixing business with politics. He had already cut off virtually all Sirta Foundation trade agreements with foreign entities, especially those affiliated with the asari. From what Udina understood, the man's psychiatrist had recommended he take 'administrative leave' due to his emotions effecting his management, and was promptly blacklisted out of a business he had spent the majority of his adult life studying for.

Sirta Foundation was, of course, the primary producer of Medi-Gel. The fact that they had cut off this vital medical resource from virtually all of citadel space was causing…problems, for Udina, to say the least. He had just gotten done being screamed at by President Clancy for a good two hours when he received dozens of meeting requests, all pertaining to the extremely sudden Medi-Gel shortage. Udina sighed at their ignorance.

Many of the aliens were perplexed as to why this was such a serious issue. They didn't understand why a single missing human kidnapped by batarians was causing such a stir- but he could hardly blame them for their lack of historical context. One factor was that humans had always been touchy on the slavery issue than other races, and it was a much more serious crime in the Alliance than elsewhere. The Council races had outlawed it long ago, yes, but they were much more soft-handed in their enforcement of the law than humans tended to be. Another was the lingering fears left over from the Skyllian Blitz. Udina still remembered what had been called the 'slaver scare' from the time immediately following the Blitz. All of the colonies were essentially terrified that they would be next for some batarian pirate to come and steal their family away from their homes. The Alliance had been forced to expand their military budget nearly forty-percent to assuage their fears, but this whole incident had driven them right back up to the surface. The fact that it had taken place on _Earth_ only exacerbated the issue. If one of the wealthiest, most influential families in the Alliance could fall victim to the batarians, then no one was safe, particularly if they now enlisted the aid of asari or Council cohorts.

Udina stepped out of the elevator he had been standing in for the last _ten goddamned minutes_ and found himself in the large lobby of the Citadel Tower. Various diplomats from the myriad Council races bustled about their daily business, and he caught sight of several heated conversations going on between human and alien representatives. He smirked grimly at that. He was far from the only one who had to deal with the fallout from this catastrophe, at least.

He made quick strides across the polished floors, but climbed up the many, many stairs at a leisurely pace. It wouldn't do to appear too ruffled when he went before the Council, or it might diminish his position in the ensuing conflict. Politics among aliens could be just as subtle and nuanced as among humans. As he drew near the Council's audience chamber, he caught the last part of a conversation between his military attaché and the Councilor Sparatus.

"Are you saying that you humans would be willing to war over something as trivial as this?" Asked the turian councilor, somehow managing to sound heated and condescending at the same time. The flanging tone of turians always reminded Udina of nails on a chalkboard, and his eyes narrowed at the avian's impertinence.

"What I am _saying_ is that under the circumstances, Mr. Rothschild's response is completely understandable. My God, the man's family was kidnapped right from under our noses. Is it any surprise that he's upset when one of them turns up on council world?" Udina should have congratulated Anderson. The man had tact he did not think he was capable of. Captain Anderson had deliberately avoided the term 'asari world' and settled to place collective responsibility on the council itself. Excellent. That would definitely increase their overall bargaining position, and Anderson had pointedly glared at Councilor Tevos to make a subtle point of her particular culpability.

"Indeed." Udina intoned loudly enough for the whole room to hear him, announcing his arrival. "I don't think that anyone in the Alliance is going to be able to dissuade the man until he is reunited with his family. Perhaps you should be focusing on the ongoing investigation? Two humans were kidnapped from our homeworld, and this Council has done _nothing_ about it!"

The Salarian councilor glared at him tersely. "The abduction of a member of any race, while a serious transgression, is not something that requires the immediate attention of this council. We have far more important matters to discuss…such as the growing Medi-Gel shortage ever since your Sirta Foundation essentially froze all of it's trading interests in Citadel Space." Udina glared right back, unperturbed by the younger councilor.

"Perhaps it is not of interest to you, Councilor, but our people are up in arms over this, and Rothschild has made it clear that no one will be seeing a milliliter of Medi-Gel until he gets his family back and the men…or women responsible are brought to justice." Udina's specification was not lost on the asari councilor, who maintained her composure only due to centuries of experience as a patient and even-handed politician.

But she did not get to be the councilor of the oldest citadel race by being complacent. She already had a response prepared for Udina's predictable implications. "Ambassador, while I appreciate your suspicion in the wake of this terrible wrongdoing, and I promise that we'll do everything we can to bring those responsible to justice. But of people of every race are _dying_ every day because of this...embargo the Sirta Foundation has commenced. You must be reasonable."

Udina was unimpressed with her rehearsed plea. " I think not, Councilor. Mr. Rothschild is a private citizen, and he has sharing control in Sirta Foundation. If he chooses not to engage in trade with those he feels may in be complicit with the abduction of his wife and daughter, there is little we can do about it." Finished Udina smugly. He was enjoying watching the council squirm in a far from professional manner. They had stepped on his proposals and ideas too many times for him to let them off easy now.

"Surely you can do something. You humans are always the first to make exceptions for yourselves. But I suppose it's a different story when it's the _other_ races who need your help…" Sparatus said. The turian was glaring at Udina from the council podium. Udina scowled in return. He was about to retort, but Captain Anderson forestalled him by placing a hand on his shoulder. Udina wordlessly nodded, with great reluctance, allowing Anderson to take the floor. Udina wasn't stupid. He realized that he was very much the 'bad cop' in their little team, and that Anderson would be better suited to dealing with a situation that required careful diplomacy with aliens rather than the assertiveness Udina was known for. Udina could win an argument, but Anderson was far better at resolving conflicts peacefully.

"Councilors, please. We cannot simply order Mr. Rothschild to re-establish his contracts at this stage. It'd be in blatant violation of the alliance's universal free-trade policy." Anderson explained. Of course, there was far more to it than that. Rothschild was a powerful man with powerful friends in the alliance government. Combine that with the recent dip in foreign relations among the common people due to the scandalous kidnapping, and Rothschild could embargo with impunity.

"I see…"Sighed Tevos. "Then I suppose we have no recourse in this situation. We will attempt to engage in direct negotiations with Mr. Rothschild, with your permission."

Udina scoffed. "Unlikely. But you have our leave. We want this mess sorted out as much as you do, but our hands are tied. This isn't the first time we've had problems with the batarians, but something like this in unprecedented in our history. Rothschild isn't the only voice demanding blood over this." The asari councilor nodded grimly.

"I realize that, Ambassador, but there are other matters to consider for now. First of all..." She began with a deep breathe, in preparation. "The Asari Republics will be handling this investigation personally, you may rest assured that we will pursue it to the fullest extent of the criminal connection."

Udina blinked.

"What."

He was speechless at the sheer audacity and insensitivity towards the public perception among the alliance people that statement implied. "What Udina means is, we're not certain you fully grasp the situation, Councilor." Anderson clarified. "Alliance citizens were kidnapped from Earth, and people died. One of them is still missing, and if the reports are accurate, the captives _escaped_, not rescued. There's no way Interpol will let the RCLE take over the case they've been working on for almost half a year, and that's not even considering the public's reaction..." He finished. All of these things were good points, but Udina had gotten good at reading the council over the years, and their expressions were not particularly promising.

"We understand that, Councilor Anderson, but you must in turn take into account what the Republics feel about all of this. Many of the matriarchs are fearful that the Alliance will...'jump the gun', so to speak. The are afraid that some of the more..._impulsive_...members of your military wing will employ overzealous investigation practices on an asari world. It is the decision of this council and the Asari republics that the Illium incident be handled by Republican authorities, until such a time that the embargo on Medi-Gel is lifted. I am sorry, but the matriarchs will not broach on the topic as long as the alliance demonstrates such callous obstinacy." Anderson opened his mouth to retort but closed it before he said anything that might bite them in the ass later. Udina smiled grimly. Good, he was learning. Learning to see things from the point of view of others. It was an essential skill for any diplomat, and while Udina may not come off as understanding or sensible to foreign points of view, he wasn't appointed as Ambassador for nothing. The silence of Councilor's Valern and Sparatus obviously meant that they were content to keep this matter between humans and asari, for now. Still, Udina suspected that Valern would likely be making a few calls to the Special Tasks Group's liaisons this evening, and Sparatus was likely to side with the asari if only to reinforce his own opinions of the humans. The silence of the other councilors also meant that they had already previously agreed with Tevos beforehand, should the alliance's response prove unsatisfactory.

Aside from the obvious ulterior motive towards Medi-Gel shipping, the asari thought that the emotions running high among the human people would cloud their vision, and possibly be dangerous to the indigenous asari population of Illium should the Alliance be allowed to conduct their own investigation. They were right, too an extent, but it was very unpolitic to say so out right in front of the very military-minded former-Captain Anderson. He probably took it as a personal insult, to insinuate that the alliance soldiers were undisciplined enough to cause further incidents with the asari, or that Highcom would be stupid enough to put anyone but the very best and most disciplined soldiers at their disposal on such a delicate mission. Hell, Udina himself was a little ticked off at such a blatant stereotyping of Alliance personnel. This was where being the youngest Council race started to really show. It was very telling that the three elder races had met without Anderson and decided in secret their response. It was not good. Anderson being out of the loop and over his head, however personally satisfying it might be for Udina, set a bad precedent for humanity's political future on this council. Udina had no intention of being the Ambassador under whose watch the human council seat was gained _and_ lost.

At this point, Udina couldn't do anything to rectify the situation without further political leverage. Leverage that they simply did not have so long as the asari connection to the batarians was circumstantial at best.

"It's no use captain. This council has done it's damnedest to stunt humanity's growth at every turn. First they don't take the threat represented by Saren seriously-" The turian councilor bristled at that, but Udina simply continued on with his tirade, ignoring the angry avian."-And it would be foolish to assume that they would listen to us now. I think we're done here." And on that decidedly un-diplomatic note, Udina walked out of the council meeting chamber. The council made no move to stop the two human diplomats as Anderson moved to follow, but stopped just at the precipice of the audience chamber.

"You know that this won't end well." He stated.

"Of course it won't, but things rarely do when you humans are involved." Sparatus countered.

* * *

A shadow flew across the rooftops of the undercity. The buildings were much smaller down below the great boulevards that carried foot traffic at about the midway point between the skyscrapers and the surface. The shadow looked upwards, baring his masked face to the orange rays of sunlight that just barely reached the roofs of the undercity.

The near constant sunset was a unique feature of this country, Corvo assumed. For the days he had been here, the daytime hours in Nos Astra had been constantly filled with the orange glow in the sky that he would associate with a sunset back in Gristol. This city was a truly wondrous place, as the light reflecting off of the smooth metallic buildings produced a beautiful luminary effect.

Now, by his reckoning, it must have been early in the morning as the night had still yet to give way to the sunrise in the eastern skies, which still showed the starry night. The climate of this region was truly strange to his senses, but he supposed that there really was no way to tell what lay beyond the black hole of Pandyssia. He would definitely have many tales to tell back in Dunwall. Perhaps they could visit the Hound Pits Pub for old times' sake.

It was too bad that the untimely arrival of the true Conrad Verner had blown his cover and rendered his efforts to subdue the Justicar fruitless. Not only that but he had left Verner alive, allowing the N7 to report to his superiors and doubtlessly bring down the hammer of retribution on Corvo. Or at least, he could, if Corvo had left them with any clues to trace. All they knew at this point was that a somewhat tall man with dark hair and pitch eyes had temporarily stolen the identity of one of their soldiers. He doubted that they had the pool of reference needed to ascertain his Serkonan accent, obviously.

But now he was back to square one, so to speak. The food supplies in the hangar he had occupied had been taken into proper account, but he doubted that they would last longer than a few weeks, depending on how long they kept. He had no idea how long it would take him to discover his present location given this most recent setback. And then there was the matter of securing passage on a ship towards parts unknown to these people. Most likely, he would be forced to resort to constructing…or commandeering a ship of his own.

Normally Corvo resented pirates. They were the bane of the Gristolean seas, and Serkonos had been a popular target for their raids during wartime when the navy was otherwise occupied. Corvo still remembered old friends lost to pirate bullets.

But…he would not allow _anything_ to stop him from returning to his Empress' side. Emily needed him. He still remembered all of the attempts at controlling and manipulating of the impressionable Empress he had thwarted in the few short months he had been able to share with her before he was taken here by the Outsider. He didn't know what the being's purposes were, but the fact was that he had taken Corvo away from Emily, an occurrence that demanded immediate rectification. However distasteful he found the prospect of piracy, he might find himself with no other recourse should he run out of other options in procuring transportation back to Gristol.

But such thoughts should not plague him as of yet, he reminded himself. He needed to deal with the matter at hand before he troubled himself with thoughts of future conflicts. He needed to decide what he was going to now.

Obviously the first order of business remained unchanged from the previous day; find out where the hell he was in relation to Gristol. The astronomical charts were obviously a bust, now. It would be difficult to steal into the guard station now that they had been alerted to his presence, after all. Not only that, but they knew what he was after and would most probably move the charts to a more secure location, or at least increase security around the maps. Worse yet, they might set some sort of trap for Corvo with their advanced technology. No…it was far too risky to try for the astronomical charts now.

He would have to find some other source of information. Logic dictated that if official sources channels could not be broached to get what he needed, then he would have to resort to more unscrupulous methods and persons. It would be likely that many of the ship captains docked in the port would carry such charts that he would require to triangulate his position. However, captains in Gristol would be loathe to part with such maps, or even let Corvo take a look at them without some kind of reimbursement. Unfortunately, Corvo doubted that he had enough Kaldwins on him to afford that sort of payment without stretching his funds to an uncomfortable extreme.

Right now, he could see the docks over up above the city and past what he assumed was the port for Nos Astra. Utilizing the spyglass lens of his right eye-lens, he surveyed the port from here for likely targets. Due to the sheer distance, he couldn't really make out individual persons from his position all the way down here. Were the docks of the traditional sort, he would be underwater at least seventy fathoms, by his reckoning. Possibly more if the docks were farther than they appeared.

Stranger still was the nature of the ships at the docks. Skyships, he had taken to calling them. Huge, metallic monstrosities of black iron decked out in all manner of colors, with intimidating looking cannons and a size that dwarfed all but the largest of whaling trawlers. It was onboard one of these great vessels that he hoped to accomplish his goals. First, the starcharts. Second, acquire passage. Both tasks had multiple methods of accomplishment both wholesome and unsavory. He could simply steal a chart by sneaking onboard a ship or two, but he would rather gain access to them honestly. Perhaps he could exchange favors with the captain as he had with the asari guardswoman, but with minimal deception this time. In his experience, ship captains were far less picky when it came to their associations than guards were. He would also like to purchase a ship for himself lawfully, if possible, but that seemed unlikely. He didn't have nearly enough Kaldwins on him to even purchase a small vessel back home, let alone one of these flying behemoths. A Skyship could probably put a serious dent in the imperial treasury, still exhausted from the plague, even assuming he had access to it.

And he was not naïve enough to think about simply explaining the situation to them, either. First of all was the rather fantastical method of his transportation here, thanks to the outsider. Even assuming that they believed him and that he was not chucked in a madhouse, the religious authorities of Nos Astra were most likely not like to take kindly his association with the spiritual embodiment of change, chaos, and upheavel, should the Abbey of the Everyman be believed. The Outsider tended to be rather unpopular in any case aside from his rather close knit circle of followers, of whom Corvo did not necessarily count himself among.

So that left him with two options. One, he could take everything he needed from a single ship by force. This was, of course, chancy to say the least. He could hardly count on the crew to depose their captain in favor of himself, even with the aid of the Outsider's powers. He had no idea how to operate one himself, nor did he understand the logistics necessary for refueling and supplies that such a vessel would undoubtedly require. Really, his only true option was his second one. It was only minorly less abhorrent than the first.

He would need to associate himself to a ship belonging to a seedier element. He had seen the like in ports back in Serkonos, and he doubted that these creatures were so different from men that they would not count such scum among their own number as well. Pirates.

Pirates not a day gone, he would find. They would show up in port to dispose of their booty, party for a few days with their ill-gotten gains, re-equip themselves, and sail off to prey on more innocent and honest seamen. Or skymen, in this case. Corvo could only imagine the havoc that a sky-pirate could wreak, even on well defended cities like Dunwall. He found himself silently thankful to Sokolov for installing those Pillars of Light all around Dunwall. Even after all trouble they gave him, the perfected model he and Pietro had made would be the only thing he could think of besides cannon towers that could hit the skyships should they ever fall upon his city. It was comforting to know that they would not be _completely_ defenseless should such an occurrence come to pass.

But of course Corvo would have to find such men before he could broker a deal with them. They would not be out in the open of course, but he had ways. He felt the tell-tail beat matched with the ticking of a clock in the right interior pocket of his naval greatcoat, familiar as the thumping of his own heart.

The Heart. It told him…things. Secrets. Anything of relevance, or sometimes irrelevance, pertaining to the target he angled it towards. It was…unsettling. It spoke in a voice he long missed, and said highly disturbing things about the area of Dunwall Tower. He had his suspicions, but had never had the opportunity to question the Outsider directly about what exact "living thing" had produced this clockwork heart of his.

Still, the voice itself comforted him. He liked to think…only sometimes…that maybe Jessamine was still with him, in a way. At least, maybe her heart was with him in a more than metaphorical way. It disturbed, and sometimes disgusted him, but he found himself mimicking Jessamine's own words back at her. "My heart grows at piece when you are near…"He said…softly so that only he could hear, despite his solitude on that lonely rooftop.

He shook his head, and vanished in a blink of light.

It had taken him a little over all day to make his way from the undercity all the way to the docks, but well worth his trouble. He had not bothered with the public skytrains this time around, and had simply used his supernatural abilities to traverse the cityscape. This reduced his encounters with the guards considerably. The skytrains always dropped him off at uncomfortably exposed places, and he was sure to encounter trouble with the guards thanks to the incident with the asari on his first day. Wanted posters were probably up already.

Of course, that could work to his advantage. He was specifically in search of the criminal element, and they would often choose only to associate with their own kind. He already had a foot in the door, in that case.

Right now, he was skulking in some shadows off to the side. He had stopped at what was obviously a security checkpoint, complete with more asari guardswomen. The blue skinned women quite obviously the majority in Nos Astra. A useful note indeed.

His ability to bend-time had made short work of the checkpoint. He had simply made sure no one was looking by hiding in some nearby shadows, and froze the world with a quick burst of magic. He felt a wave of depression overtake him as everything turned grey and frozen in tableu, and cursed beneath his breath. Bending time was a spiritually draining ability, and he had no method of restocking his supply of Pietro's remedy here. He would simply have to be more conservative with his more draining spells from now on.

Still, it got the job done, and no one noticed him slip out of the alleyway on the opposite side of the checkpoint.

He was now in the dockyard proper. Getting a look at the skyships, he felt a wave of awe run across his stoic façade. From down in the undercity, it was difficult to ascertain the true size of the vessels. Now though, up close, he fully comprehended their truly massive scale.

The smallest of the vessels was a sleek, steel craft with glowing bits of teal-stained glass at seemingly random intervals. It had no visible weaponry to speak of, but what he guessed served as the propulsion of it was simply massive. It made the thing appear to be very bottom heavy, like some kind of metal-bewinged throwing dart, except for the size. Indeed, even the smallest ship was a good three times larger than any of Dunwall's huge whaling trawlers.

As for the people and creatures that bustled throughout the port, they became somewhat familiar. He had noticed that asari tended to cluster up in the 'overcity', and the other creatures such as the lizard people and even humans tended to go to the undercity. Humans were more evenly spread that the lizards, though, and he spotted a few new creatures as well. Small, rotund, armored creatures in full plate waddled around the port as well. They were few and far between, but Corvo still noted a good few dozen about the place. They reminded him of the Gnomes his grandmother had described to him in bedtime stories as a child in Serkonos. However, he had never heard of a gnome wearing such armor before, and they were missing their pointy hats and showed a greater tendency towards plumpness.

Another anomaly was the greater presence and urgency of movement among men of his own race, who he noted were given a far wider berth in the crowd than the day before. Armored and clearly armed men patrolled the streets and guarded the largest of the ships, a great black iron and becannoned leviathan that was clearly designed with war on the mind of the shipwright, and little else. Many of the men seemed angry and tense, or scared. Crews of people with what Corvo assumed were videographs and audiographs were all over the place, and seemed to be conducting inquiries.

Corvo resolved to avoid it for now. It reminded him distinctly of what would happen should he kill a few too many guardsmen in a single area over a too-lengthy period of time. The survivors would organize a witch-hunt of sorts to smoke him out to avenge their fallen brethren, and Corvo's missions would be that much harder. He grimaced. Perhaps it had been unwise to handle Conrad Verner as he had, going as far to impersonate him for a few days. He should have known that the 'Alliance' wouldn't take him doing something like that to such an important military personage standing down. These men were likely Conrad's comrades, come to exact revenge on the behalf of their humiliated compatriot.

Well…what was done was done. There was little he could do to rectify that situation without escalating the conflict further. The best thing he could do for himself now would be to simply get on with his task and avoid the authorities more carefully. He considered removing his mask, but decided against it. If the asari guards had shared a description of his face with Verner and his men, as was likely demanded of them, then he would be worse off appearing as the high-profile impersonator than as the anonymous murderer he was now. Guards would often look the other way to such 'common' crimes in times of strife or emergency, so long as they were not overt.

Now was the part where he used the gift of the outsider. He reached into his pocket, and withdrew his macabre compass of the heart. It beat constantly and audibly in his hand, in perfect synchronization with the beating in his own chest. He surveyed the crowd.

He would have to sort through the various lizard people to search for potential targets of his own race. He doubted that the lizards would be allowed to serve as trusted crew aboard a ship, given the violent and mutinous look some of them had. The skinny ones looked like the would be blown away by the lightest of storms, and the somewhat hardier looking bird-legged ones looked surly at best. So, he would restrict himself to investigating the few human's who were clearly not associated with the military or videograph crews for now. If worst came to pass, he would try some of the Gnomes. He found himself almost bursting into laughter at the incredibly droll prospect of _pirate Gnomes_, but surely their armor was not _all_ for show…

Seeing a rather rough-around-the-edges looking individual swilling a beverage and laughing with a group of similarly dressed men, he found a potential target. The man had snake-like and harsh looking tattoos emblazoned on his face, which sported a red beard and shaved head, with dark bags beneath his eyes that were common signs of overindulgence in drink and Pandyssian tabac. He decided to listen in with his honed senses to pick out his voice from the constant buzzing of the crowd.

"So I tells her, look ye blue bitch, I don't care how many creds yer offerin', I ain't movin' nothin' no how fer anybody 'till this Rot-child shit blows th' fuck o'er. Las' ting I need is the Alliance bustin' my ass o'er a li'l people traffickin' on 'side of movin' the sand. I ain't goin' to no fuckin prison fer her, no matter how she wiggles her lady parts at me!" All of the rough looking man's men laughed at the statement that had been almost completely indecipherable to him, so he imagined that it was a crude jape of some sort. It suited his purposes enough to chance a surveyance with the Heart, in any case.

He pointed the grisly organ-machine at the group of men in the rough man's general direction, and squeezed the heart lightly in a gentle grip. A few moments of silence passed, and…

_"He has fathered eight children by different mothers, and murdered twice as many in front of theirs."_

Well. That was promising for the theory of piracy, if…disturbing. Corvo had a history of dealing with men who hurt women and children, after all. He made a note to kill this man when he ceased being of use to him, whenever that may be. After all, the authorities couldn't very well blame him if the local rats suddenly developed a taste for pirates. Using rats to dispose of vermin…ironic, that. He gave the heart another squeeze.

_His friends call him 'the Sandman'. He sells red sand to blue children. If they can't pay the sandman his due, he makes them sleep forever. _

Corvo found his opinion of the man lessening with each word. His usual gentle grip on the heart was now a iron lock of his fist, and his eyes threw invisible daggers towards 'the Sandman's' head. "The next words spoken had best outline your indispensable usefulness to me, 'Sandman', or else the rats shall find themselves more ravenous than usual as you pass by a stormdrain…" Corvo mumbled lowly beneath his breath. His hand squeezed the heart for the final time.

_"A beautiful woman sought passage on his ship in the late hours of the night, and was refused. His life was shortened by only one day."_

That was certainly interesting. It would appear that Corvo was not the only one who had it out for the Sandman, if that was his truly his fate. He would have died tomorrow, had he not died today. Curious.

If the heart mentioned the woman, then she was probably significant in some way. At the very least, he knew someone was searching for something similar to himself…a common goal. He would not lower himself to work with this man. Not for ten million Kaldwins. But this woman may be of…further use.

On that note, Corvo began to approach the Sandman and his crew. As much as the thought pained him…Dunwall could wait. Those who preyed on women and children struck a dark chord within Corvo's heart, and Gristol could last another day or two without him.

* * *

"Hello." A monotone voice intoned from behind him.

Jesus! What was up with all of these interruptions! He had just been about to regale his boys with another one of his famous raunchy jokes when a hand was placed on his shoulder. "'Ey, 'ands off, ye queer. Ah'm in a good mood right now, so fuck off before a shove that hand up yer-"

"You are the one they call the Sandman." The voice continued heedlessly.

The sandman narrowed his eyes. Only his crew called him that name…well, them and customers. He turned around to regard the owner of the voice.

In front of his stood a somewhat tall man wearing some kind of weird robe, and buckles all over his fucking clothes. He wore a hood up over his head, but that wasn't the end of the weirdness. He wore some kind of freaky metal skull-mask with scope-eyes and a broken mouth.

The man was covered in dirt and smelled like absolute shit, but the sandman just raised an eyebrow. The description fit most of his customers, granted, but that mask really was something else. Maybe he'd just ice this clown and take the thing. It'd make a nice castle for his goldfish, if nothing else.

"Yeh, tha's me. You a customer? Ah hope you brought creds, cos' ah can tell ye right now, cash only fer yer type."

"A woman begged passage on your ship last night." The voice continued from behind the mask, and the weirdo's hand went behind his back threateningly. Shit.

"Okay…maybe so…" said the sandman guardedly. "Who the fuck wants ter know?" He was stalling, and made the motion for his boy Mikey to get his Predator ready. The guy knew an awful lot already, judging by his comments. Too much if he wasn't a customer. They were gonna have to deal with this.

"…The alliance wants to know. In fact…we're very interested in the woman from yesterday. Much more interested than we are in you." The voice continued in that same, smooth monotone , and masky was standing as still as a fucking statue, with one hand in his weird hoodie-jacket-robey thing and the other behind his back. "We'd like it very much if you could tell us all about her, please." The sandman glared tersely and snarled at the sheer arrogance at that, with not a little disbelief.

"List'n here ye homeless fuck, my clien's don't need any _shit_ from fuckin' loony tunes like you, so jest back the hell off before I pump ye full'er lead, yeh?" He glared at the crazy, captain knows-too-much. They'd just have to follow him back to whatever rat hole he slept in after the shooed him off and shoot him in the head a couple of times. Stupid hobos interrupting their bar hopping…

"You and what army?" That same damned voice said again in that same fucking nondescript tone. The sandman looked over his shoulder and started to give Danny the signal to teach this fucker some manners…

…only to find nothing there but five large pools of blood.

Danny. Mikey. Jonny. Faulkner. Reese. Men he'd worked with for years, raiding, smuggling, a little bit of drug pushing. Replaced by five puddles of blood in a dark alleyway in the middle of a large, bustling crowd. No one even noticed, and everyone just kept moving along and about their business. He turned back to face the masked man with wide, horror-filled eyes…

…only to find himself alone. Not just alone. No. In an entirely different fucking environment. He was indoors now…dark…he could hear the voices of the crowd just past thin walls, but he was alone in the dark, now.

"Okay…I give..p-please don't hurt me…ah…ah got kids ter feed…" Not technically a lie. He never said he was gonna feed them. Of course, he might just do so if the hobo who was clearly satan in disguise didn't kill him…

"I know." Said the flat voice, seemingly from behind him. He whipped around lightning fast, pistol out, but no one was there. "I know about all eight of your children." Said the same voice, from not an inch away from his ear. He didn't move that time. He didn't even blink. The gun trembled in his hands. "I know about the other children as well, 'sandman'. I know about their mothers. I know about what you did to them. I know about the asari, and what you did to them, too." The air filled with the stench of liquid fear, and terror stretched across the sandman's face. His fair skin turned a shad paler.

"H-how do ye know about tha'…?" he stammered quietly.

"That is of no consequence. This is what should concern you." The almost mechanical voice continued as the sandman felt cold steel press against the base of his neck. "This is how events shall proceed. You will tell me everything you know about the woman who approached you last night, and you will leave nothing out…I will know if you do." It elaborated. The sandman could no longer think of the voice as human…

"H..her name is M-morinth…she was with Eclipse…the sisterhood…t-they're based outta th' station district…runnin' scared frem th' jesticar…tha's all ah know…ah…ah swear…oh god n-" were the last words of the sandman before the edge of the devil's razor sliced through fat, muscle, cartilage, and bone to perform a neat decapitation. His death was comparatively merciful.

"That's all I needed to know." Said the voice again, losing the monotone in favor of a mildly amused Serkonan drawl.


End file.
